Johnlock: What Is Love? (Book 1)
by MrsHeftyTurtle
Summary: John and Sherlock start to notice their feelings for each other. Which grow stronger after John is kidnapped. Can Sherlock save him in time without misunderstanding the clues from the psychotic killer?
1. Chapter 1: Feelings

Sherlock was playing his violin, it had been about a hour since we talked. He was playing a deep but light melody. John tried to understand what he was thinking, but he was unable to. Sherlock played the violin in such a beautiful way. John always wondered where he learned how to play, probably out of shear boredum.

Sherlock abruptly stopped and looked at John.

"Hungry?" He asked in his baritone voice. John was a little startled that the music stopped so suddenly. John just nodded and got up to grab his coat.

Sherlock threw his coat on and put on his scarf, not like he normally does. He seemed frustrated about something.

They walked in silence to their usual itailian place.

John looked at Sherlock and slightly smiled. The detective looked up and stared at him for a bit.

"What are you looking at?" The detective asked.

"Hm? Oh, nothing."

"You're lying, why are you smiling? What's funny? What did I miss?" John sighed and went back to messing with his food. He put his fork down and got up, then paid.

"John, where are you going?" Sherlock asked while getting up and following the doctor. John didn't answer and just kept walking.

"John! Stop!" Sherlock yelled to him. John turned around.

"What, Sherlock?" He said, a bit of irritation in his voice. Sherlock looked confused.

"Are you okay?"

"I need to breathe and be alone. I'll be back at the flat later." John continued walking on by himself.

* * *

He walked for a good hour until his leg started to hurt. That was strange, he assumed that Sherlock fixed that a long time ago. He sighed, why was he feeling this way? Towards Sherlock? He cared about his flatmate, yes. But, more than normal. He shrugged that thought off, it just couldn't be. Sherlock didn't posses feelings, he didn't care. Or did he? That was stupid. He doesn't. John sighed in frustrating, why did this have to happen to him? Why did he care so much about a sociopath? John ignored his thoughts for the rest of the night and walked back home.


	2. Chapter 2: The Case

_**AN: I intend for this story to be longer than a few chapters. I want the story to go on for a while, actually. I normally end up watching Sherlock episodes over and over to really understand how both characters act, but given how this story may go, I am going to apologize in advanced if their personality changes just a bit to fit the story.**_

_**Reviews and such are great :)**_

When John returned to the flat, he heard the silent sound of the violin. He smiled, Sherlock always played beautiful songs. He walked up to the living room and sat in his chair, watching the detective.

After a while the detective finally noticed John sitting there.

"Oh, welcome. Didn't notice you, how long have you been sitting there?" Sherlock asked, a bit confused.

"Half a hour, maybe."

"Oh."

"Tea?" Sherlock nodded and John went to the kitchen. He made two cups, placing one on the table for Sherlock. He sat back down in his chair, thinking.

"Any new, uhm, cases, lately?" John asked.

"No, well, yes but they're boring. Always boring." Sherlock called most of the cases they got boring, John never understood why. He seemed to like some of them. Sherlock's phone went off.

_Two females murdered. Bodies look interesting. Come check it out._

_GL_

Sherlock smiled a little and grabbed his coat and scarf. John just sat there, puzzled a little.

"Are you coming, John?" Sherlock asked. John got up, and grabbed his coat. Sherlock help him put it on. John shrugged off the thought of him doing that and went outside.

"Where to?" John asked, trying to get a cab.

"Westminster, two murders." Sherlock said as he got into the cab. John got in behind him, he sighed.

* * *

"You okay? You seem a bit off today." Sherlock asked while he was looking out the window. He looked at John, deducing him. John rolled his eyes.

"Stop it. I hate when you do that."

"Do what?"

"Deduce me, I hate it." John looked out the window and stayed silent for the rest of the ride.

* * *

When they arrived at the scene, there were police cars and police officers. Sherlock walked under the crime scene tape and help it for John to walk under. They walked into the house and found Lestrade waiting for them inside, he took them up three flights of stairs while explaining the very few things his officers found.

"Both were killed in the exact same way, found traces of blood on the walls and they have bruises in the same spots, same sizes as well." Lestrade finally said as they entered the room. John looked down at the bodies of the woman, a blonde and brunette. He looked over at Sherlock and watched him examine the bodies, probably thinking of 20+ ways on how they were murdered.

After about five minutes, Sherlock finally stood up, staring at the bodies.

"So? What do you know?" Lestrade asked, eager to know. Sherlock just looked at him. He looked back at the bodies.

"Both look to be mid twenties, they both worked at an office building. They were murdered a few hours after they got off work because they have pressure marks on their arms. The brunette has been married for oh, 5 plus years and the blonde has recently been married. The bruises are not the same size indicating that there were two murderers involved in this. They are in similar spots, but the blonde has cuts on her upper arm." He looked at Lestrade. John was always in disbelief when Sherlock noticed the smallest details, it was truly amazing.

"There is something missing though, they don't have cell phones. Why not? Well, obvious, the murderers had to be close to both of them, so they most likely had contact with them before the death, telling them to meet them here."

"Now how do you know that?" Lestrade asked, confused.

"Because there was a note in the blonde's pocket giving her directions to here, meaning she was texting one of the murderers about arriving here. Isn't it obvious? What's it like for you people?" Sherlock just looked at both of them and walked out of the room, John following right behind.

* * *

"So what are we looking for?" John asked after they were a few blocks away.

"The cellphones. I'll have Lestrade text me their personal information later."

"Oh."

"Hungry?" Sherlock smiled. John just nodded and they walked to Angelo's in silence.


	3. Chapter 3: Getting Milk

_**AN: How are you liking the story? A bit boring? If it is, I promise it will get better. I just don't want to rush things and this ends up being a few chapters. I want at least 20+ chapters in this story, so I'm trying my hardest to keep it interesting! The next chapter is going to be in Sherlock's POV, so you can see how he feels about everything. Additional note, Mycroft may possibly show up in the next chapter, so beware. :)**_

* * *

When they finally arrived back at the flat, Sherlock was in one of his moods. That mood where he's in his mind palace, thinking about the case. He does this for a few hours sometimes, or just a few minutes. John loved watching Sherlock when he was in his mind palace, he was completely innocent. He adored Sherlock the whole time.

* * *

John opened his eyes and looked around, the detective no where in sight. Where did he go? He was just here, wasn't he? John looked at the table in front of him, there was a still steaming cuppa tea and a note. He picked up the note and read:

_**Went out to get some milk, be back soon.**_

_**SH**_

John smiled, although Sherlock never went out to get milk, it was a nice thought that he did. John wondered how long he was sleeping, he looked at the clock, it was 5:30pm. A few hours. John got up and started cleaning things up, whenever there was a case Sherlock always got carried away and never focused on anything but the case, he really was married to his work. John sighed, he wished it wasn't really like that.

John stopped and looked around, what was he thinking? John wasn't gay, why did he feel like this? He tried so hard to get these feelings out of his body and mind but they wouldn't disappear. They wouldn't go away. Why did he have to care about Sherlock Holmes like this? How would Sherlock even react if he knew? What if he already knew? John's heart stopped for a moment. What is Sherlock could read John's emotions? John started getting frustrated, he picked up the pillow on his chair and threw it at the couch. Why did Sherlock do this to him? Why?

He heard the door open downstairs and footsteps. Sherlock was home from the store. John panicked and put the pillow back where it was and ran off to his room before he could face the detective. If he saw him, Sherlock could easily read every thought going through John's mind. He didn't want that, not that all. He didn't want the amazing Sherlock Holmes to know that John Watson cared much more for him.


	4. Chapter 4: Sherlock's Emotions

**AN: I wanted to give you guys some insight to how Sherlock was feeling. Sorry if this gets boring, I'm trying my hardest to keep you interested but to also keep the story going. I love long fan fictions, and that's what I'm trying my best to write. I don't really like the ones that are less than 10-15 chapters, because come on, everyone loves a long, good book. I'll try my hardest, but warning, stuff is going to hit the fan in the next few chapters. ;)**

* * *

_**Sherlock's POV**_

(**Before Sherlock goes to the store in the last chapter.**)

Sherlock plopped onto the couch and put his hands into his 'praying' position. Although anyone who knew Sherlock, knew he definitly wasn't praying. He was simply in his mind palace, thinking of the case at hand. He couldn't think of the current case though, he couldn't focus on anything but _John._ Why? Why was he thinking of John? He shrugged off any thought of John and continued to think of the case.

After about one hour, Sherlock opened his eyes and looked at John. John had fallen asleep watching Sherlock. He smiled and got up to check if they had milk, he was going to make tea for them both. They were out of milk, he sighed. He wrote a note for John, it read:

_**Went out to get some milk, be back soon.**_

_**SH**_

He then grabbed his coat and scarf and went downstairs. He called for a cab but ignored it, deciding that walking to the convienent store was a better idea so he could think about the case, and John. John, John, John. His doctor. Sherlock's ex-military doctor, he smiled a bit. Why did thinking of John make him feel, happy? He sighed, Sherlock never understood emotions very well, it might not even be the thought of John that was making him happy, it might just be because Sherlock knew the answer to the case. He should probably go visit Lestrade after getting milk.

* * *

Sherlock finally got to the store and went straight to the milk, he grabbed one, paid and walked out. He decided on going to Lestrade, he sighed. He headed back to the flat. He had to go see John, he had to make him a cup of tea. On the way there Sherlock kept thinking if he should text John and tell him he got the milk, would John even be awake? He looked so innocent while he slept, he looked as if he had never killed anyone in his life. Sherlock never really understood why the ex-military doctor ever continued to life with him after their first case. Or second, or third even. Most people left as soon as they met Sherlock, but not John, he stayed and continued to rish his life for the detective. Why? Sherlock was never good with emotions and he started to get frustrated at all these thoughts of John, he really should not be feeling like this towards his flat mate.

* * *

Sherlock returned to the flat and went right up to the kitchen. He placed the milk on the table and looked around, looking for John, where was he? Sherlock hadn't been gone for far too long, John would have left a note if he went out. Was he okay? Did someone take him? Sherlock stopped moving, why was he thinking like this? Of course no one took John, John would obviously fight back. He sighed.

"John?" Sherlock said loudly, hoping the doctor would hear him. No answer. Sherlock was getting worried.

"John? Are you home? I brought the milk." Sherlock looked around, no sign of him. Then he heard the footsteps of John coming down from his room. Sherlock quietly sighed in relief. He grabbed the kettle, filled it with water, and placed it on the stove.

"I'm making tea, want some?" He asked John, trying to sound nice but as normal as possible.

"You? Making tea?" John questioned him, curious. Of course he was making tea, before John came around, Sherlock knew how to take care of himself. What a stupid question John would ever ask.

"Yes. Do you want some?" Sherlock asked, irritated. He shouldn't be getting irritated with John, but Sherlock was just trying to do something nice for him. John nodded and sat in his chair, Sherlock heard a faint sigh of frustration. Sherlock made the tea and placed a cup on the table beside John and sat across from him. Where they stared at each other until one of them broke the silence.

"Did you solve the case?" That snapped Sherlock out of his trance.

"What? Oh, the case. Yes." Obviously he solved the case, it was simple! How did John not know this?

"Have you told Greg?"

"No. I will later."

"Okay." That was the last thing they talked about, they sat in silence for the rest of the night.


	5. Chapter 5: John's Tears

**AN: How did you like seeing Sherlock's POV in the last chapter? It's very hard to keep character for him while trying to write a love story involving someone who doesn't understand emotions at all. I tried my hardest to portray Sherlock properly. Please give me reviews and tell me how I'm doing! :D**

* * *

_**John's POV**_

John woke up to Sherlock playing a soft melody on the violin. He sighed, why does Sherlock always have to play at such strange times through out the night? He looked at the clock, it was 4 am. Well, it wasn't that strange. John got up and made two cups of tea and placed one on the coffee table for Sherlock and one on the table for himself. He grabbed his computer and opened up his blog so he could post their latest case. One he logged on, he had a message from an anonymos reader, he shrugged to himself and opened the message up. It read:

_Dear John Watson,_

_I love your blog. Quite, different. I'd love to know how you ever thought of starting a blog, would you like to meet somewhere, actually? Coffee shop? Italian? Maybe, oh, next Tuesday possibly? For lunch? It'd be great. You don't have to respond, just show up._

_Thanks,_

_Anon._

What the hell? Why would John meet a stranger at a coffee shop? It's nice they love his blog and all, but John isn't one to meet strangers. He deleted the message and began to type up his new entry.

* * *

The next day, John and Sherlock were sitting opposite of each other. Sherlock was skimming the paper and John was on his blog. He recieved a message, and it read:

_Dear John Watson,_

_I love your blog. Quite, different. I'd love to know how you ever thought of starting a blog, would you like to meet somewhere, actually? Coffee shop? Italian? Maybe, oh, next Tuesday possibly? For lunch? It'd be great. You don't have to respond, just show up._

_Thanks,_

_Anon._

What? The same message? Is it from the same person? John thought to himself. He looked at Sherlock, who seemed pretty bored with the paper and was staring at John.

"Sherlock? I got a message from someone, asking me to meet them somewhere. I got it yesterday too." John figured if anyone had a clue about this, it'd definitly be Sherlock.

"Go meet them." Sherlock shrugged and went to the kitchen.

"Why would I do that?"

"I don't know, what do you people do? Hang out with others? Boring." Sherlock said with his regular attitude. That hurt John, it really did. He always wished that Sherlock cared about hanging out with people or wanted to go somewhere with John other than Angelo's. If they ever went anywhere else it was always with Mycroft, John never really liked being around Mycroft, although he cared for his little brother, it was creepy. John sighed. He might as well meet this person and see what they wanted from him.

He closed his laptop and put it away. Sherlock was acting a bit more defensive than normal with his replies. John wondered why, did he say something that upset Sherlock? He hoped not, he strangely cared a lot about the consulting detective, a lot more than he should. They were flat mates, that was all. Lately, everytime John was around Sherlock it made him happy inside, it never did before though. Why now? Sherlock wasn't ugly, he was a very attractive man with a fit body. He blushed. John threw the thought of Sherlock being naked out of his mind. What the hell is wrong with John?

"John? Are you sick? You look red in the face." Sherlock's question startled John.

"Wha-what? No, n-no, I'm fine. I'm okay." John went to his room, he didn't need Sherlock to deduce him and figure out how he felt. That'd be far too embarrasing. John sat on his bed and tried thinking about anything other than Sherlock. That was harder than it should have been.

* * *

John ended up laying in bed for 2 hours thinking all about Sherlock, thinking about how Sherlock would react if he knew John cared about him the way he did. He thought about the people who always thought they were a couple and how John always denied it in a frustrated way. But then, he didn't feel that way for Sherlock, now he does. Now he feels like that for Sherlock. Why does he care about someone who will never, ever care about him back? Sherlock doesn't understand emotions and Sherlock definitly does not understand what love is. He never will. That brought tears to John's eyes, why? Why was he getting upset? John thought he heard someone go up the stairs but ignored it. He silently cried himself to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6: Someone Needed To Be Murdered

**AN: Back to Sherlock's POV! This chapter completely typed itself and I thought I did a wonderful job at this one, I know it's short and all you get it Sherlock's thoughts, but I really, really hope you enjoy this.**

**P.S. I have no set amount of chapters posted a day or when I post chapters. I just type them up, fix them a bit, and publish them. I could post 1 a day or even 3 a day (like today) but I assure you, I will at least have one chapter up a day.**

* * *

**_Sherlock's POV_**

Sherlock went upstairs to check on John and see if he was alright, he quietly opened the door to John's room and saw tears going down John's cheek. Why was he crying? What happened to him? Sherlock blamed himself, it was probably something he said that upset the ex-military doctor. Sherlock got frustrated with himself and went downstairs, he grabbed his violin and was about to angrily play it until a thought stopped him. What if he woke John? That wouldn't fix how John was feeling and would probably make him more angry at Sherlock. Sherlock hated upsetting John, he was glad John stuck around and he felt nice when he was around. Sherlock sat in his chair and looked at where John normally sits, he smiled. He got back up and made two cups of tea, although John was sleeping, Sherlock thought it'd be nice to make some tea for him. He could warm it up later.

* * *

Sherlock ended up throwing darts at the smiley face on the wall for about a hour. He was waiting for John to wake up and that was boring. He thought about shooting the wall again, but didn't want to wake John. So, darts it was. He threw the rest of the darts and got up to collect them until he looked at John's laptop. John specifically told Sherlock he wasn't ever, under any circumstance, allowed on his laptop. What did he hide on there, anyway? Nothing, probably, hopefully. He picked up the laptop and sat down, tapping his fingers on it before he opened it up. The screen became bright, password protected. Obviously. What would John's password be? Sherlock studied the laptop for a good 5 minutes until he finally figured out the password. He chuckled to himself at it, it was John's mother's name. Why would that be his password?

Sherlock typed it in and there was already an internet page open to John's blog, Sherlock never really read what John put in the blogs but he always looked at the name of them. He started reading all of the blogs, silently laughing at a few and getting frustrated with how much information John actually put about Sherlock in these blogs. No wonder some people would make jokes about Sherlock, which at first he never understood. Sherlock opened up Microsoft Word and looked at the saved documents John had, one was saved as _Sherlock_. He clicked on it. There were atleast 4 pages of words that John had wrote, he must have recently typed this, it was the latest saved file. It read:

_What is wrong with me? Why am I feeling like this towards Sherlock? I care so much, SO much about him. It's frustrating me to no end, I'm going insane holding in all these feelings for him. He won't care about me back._

'_He won't care about me back_.' That hurt Sherlock, he closed out of the document. He kept thinking about that sentence. '_He won't care about me back_.' Sherlock cared about John, well, he thought he did anyway. Wasn't it obvious? Wait, this is John, some things aren't very obvious to him. No wonder he had been moody towards Sherlock, John didn't know how to act. He smiled, John did care about him like he thought. So, know he knew. But what would he do with this information? Wait for John to tell him himself? Or bring it up? Bringing it up would be a bad idea and Sherlock believed John would act badly. He would ignore it and wait for John to talk about it himself.

Sherlock then started to get mad at himself. He came off as one of those people who didn't possess feelings, because he didn't. Well, before he didn't and now he does, he cares about John a lot more than John gives him credit for. Sherlock needed to entertain himself, he needed a case to solve before he got too mad. Someone needed to be murdered. Sherlock was getting desperate to not go insane over these thoughts.

**AN: Well! How does this chapter make you feel? "Someone needed to be murdered." Are you excited for the next chapter? I told you, it's going to hit the fan soon! Sherlock is slowly going insane over these emotions and as you can tell in the last chapter, so is John. Excited? I hope! Reviews would be great, they really would be!**


	7. Chapter 7: John's Blood

**AN: I'm going to admit, I had one of my friends help me out a little bit with this chapter, so strangely enough I give credit to my friend John W. (What a coincidence!) I believe you're really going to love this. Reviews for the chapter would be great as well, let me know how it goes for you!**

* * *

_**Sherlock's POV**_

It's been a week since Sherlock found out through the document on how John felt, after he found out, they hadn't really talked. Sherlock was skimming through the paper when John came into the kitchen.

"I'm going out." John said, grabbing his coat. "I'll be back soon."

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked, eyeing the doctor carefully.

"To meet the person who sent me a message on my blog, Sherlock, like you told me to." He was getting frustrated so easily lately.

"May I join you?" Sherlock questioned him while getting up.

"No, sit down. I will be back soon." With that, John left the flat. Sherlock sat back down and sighed. What was upsetting John lately?

Sherlock felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, it was John.

_Can you get on my blog and find out where I'm meeting this person? Thanks._

_JW_

That's what Sherlock did, he got on John's blog and opened up the messages. When was the last time John was on his blog? He has 5 unread messages, Sherlock clicked on them one by one. The fifth message said where John had to meet the person, so he texted it to John. After he sent the text, the computer screen read '1 new message.' Sherlock was curious, John wouldn't mind if he read it. So he did, it read:

_Sherlock Holmes,_

_I know you're reading this. Don't bother looking for John if he never returns. By the time you'll find him, you'll be too late. We know you're clever, but I believe this time, we're more clever than you. Oh, and if by any chance you might find him sooner, that just means we will kill him sooner. You will be receiving clues to find him, though. If you follow them correctly, we may let him live. Or, we may just kill him right in front of you. Do you want to play the game, Sherlock Holmes?_

Sherlock started at the message for what seemed to be hours, even if it was just a few minutes. Someone was going to take John. Someone was going to murder him. Where was this first clue? Sherlock started to get very worried, he got up and started pacing. What would they do to him? Who would do this? Hundreds of thoughts were going through Sherlock's mind all at once, he was worrying for his best friend. Sherlock started sweating and breathing heavier, then his phone went off. He practically jumped at his phone and picked it up, he had a text.

_Your first clue will arrive in the mail tomorrow._

The number was blocked, Sherlock wouldn't be able to trace it back. If he could, they would just murder John right away. Sherlock couldn't let them do that, he'd be lost without his blogger. _His _blogger. Sherlock didn't know if he could wait until tomorrow to recieve the first clue, it's too long. They could be doing anything to John, _anything_. How was John? Was he okay? All Sherlock wanted was for John to be with him right now so he could hold him. Sherlock stopped at that thought, he wanted to hold John. Yes, he did. He already missed John. Sherlock knew where John was meeting this person, but he feared if he left to find him, they would have murdered him. Sherlock sat down and then got right back up, he couldn't be still. He ended up pacing in the living room/kitchen for the rest of the night.

* * *

Sherlock was still pacing when he heard the mail man arrive and then he heard the sound of the mail hitting the floor. Sherlock all but ran to retrieve the mail, he picked all of it up, frantically searching for the letter he needed. Once he found it, he dropped the rest of the mail and ran back upstairs. He stared at the envelope, contemplating on whether he should open it now or later. He opened it, he couldn't bare another second of knowing this held a clue as to where John was. There was a memory stick in it, that was it. No note. Nothing.

Sherlock grabbed his laptop and put the memory stick in it, and opened up the only document on it. It seemed to be a video. Oh god. What could be on this? There could be anything. He opened the video file and the first thing he saw was John, strapped to a chair, completely helpless. John looked like he was sweating profusely, he looked so scared but he tried so hard to hide it. Someone else came into view, they had a mask on and gloves, their skin was covered completely. They had a long knife in there hand, what the hell were they going to do to John? Sherlock started gripping the table in anger, he had to keep watching but he just couldn't. He paused the video and got up to pace around. He had to continue watching it, but what if they hurt John? What if they did anything to him? Sherlock sat back down and continued watching as the masked man took the knife and dragged it across John's chest, cutting his shirt and leaving a long bloody mark on John's skin. John didn't make a single sound, Sherlock could tell he was gritting his teeth. John didn't want Sherlock to see him in pain. The masked man then cut John's shoulder, deeply. Sherlock hated every single second of this video, he couldn't stand John being tortured like this. The masked man took the knife and stabbed John's arm, causing John to scream in pain. Sherlock slammed his hands on the table and got up, he grabbed a book and threw it as hard as he could at the wall. What the hell did they want from him and why were they doing this to his ex-military doctor?! Sherlock looked back to the laptop's screen and it went black. It was over, finally.

Just as Sherlock was going to close out of the video, text popped up on the screen.

_Your next clue will be at Angelo's, your favorite place with your precious John. The clue will be somewhere around the table you first had dinner with John. You must find it between 5 and 7 pm tomorrow afternoon. If you can't find it by 7:01 pm, it looks like you'll be solving the murder case of John Watson._

The video went completely dark.


	8. Chapter 8: Numbness

**AN: I apologize but things are going to be getting much, much worse for John. Do you think Sherlock can save him in time?**

**I know I seem to ask quite a lot on how I'm doing, I'm just very curious because I really, ****_really_**** want to keep your attention. The first 2 or 3 chapters to me were boring but they seemed to get better. I hope I'm doing a good job at this! Send me some reviews, follow and favorite the story! :D**

* * *

_**John's POV**_

(**This chapter starts to where John left to meet that person.**)

After walking for about 15 minutes, John realized he had no idea where he was meeting this person. He quickly texted Sherlock asking him where he should be going. He waited for a reply.

_Tapas Brindisa Soho Restaurant_

_SH_

John called for a cab and told the driver where to go. After arriving, he got out and paid the cabbie. Before he was able to walk into the restaurant, someone grabbed him by the arm and started pulling him towards an alleyway. John tried fighting back but the man was much stronger than he was. Once they got to the alleyway, John was thrown to the ground. He looked at the masked man, terrified. He had a knife in his hand and a gun in the other. He pointed the gun at John.

"If you make a single noise, I'll kill you." The masked man said and he swung the gun at John's face. The last thing John remembered was being dragged by two men.

* * *

John awoke strapped to a chair, he tried looking around but his vision was blurring. Where was he? How did he get here? He tried remembering what he was doing before all of this, but he couldn't. Where's Sherlock? Is he okay? Do they have him too? Once John's vision became unblurred, he could tell that he was in a dark room with a flickering light hanging above him. A camera was placed in front of him. A man walked into John's view and his face went white. They were going to record him being tortured or even murdered. They don't have Sherlock. John was on his own. He started to panic, trying to get out of the restraints holding him down.

"Ah, ah, ah. Bad idea." The masked man said as he tightened the restraints. "Don't make it harder for yourself now, dear John." John looked up at the man and back at the camera. "We'll make this quick."

"Oh god no, p-please don't, kill me. No." The man chuckled.

"Kill you? Ah, no. We won't kill you unless we have to." The masked man looked behind the camera, someone must have been standing there, John couldn't see them. He saw the masked man nod and a red light flicked on the camera. It was recording. John tried to stay as calm as possible, he knew they would send this to Sherlock. He just knew it. The masked man took the knife and dragged it, deeply across John's chest. It burned to badly, John just wanted to yell in pain but he gritted his teeth. He had to stay as calm as possible so Sherlock wouldn't be so worried about him. The masked man then started to cut into John's shoulder, a small yelp escaped John's lips. He was in so much pain. The masked man pulled the knife away and John thought he was finished. He relaxed his muscles and tried to calm down. Then, by John's suprise, the masked man stabbed John's arm, just below the cut he made. John screamed out in pain and started panting and sweating. The pain grew worse and worse, until all John saw was blackness. He passed out.

* * *

John woke up dizzy and coughing. He looked at his arm and saw what had happened. The pain returning to him and he grunted and tensed to try and numb the pain. It didn't work. What was going to happen to him and where the hell was Sherlock to save him? Sherlock. All John wanted was to be with _his _consulting detective. He missed him so much. How long had John been out? There weren't any windows so he wasn't able to tell, just the flickering light above his head. He looked around for signs of _anything_. There was nothing. John closed his eyes, the pain was unbearing but he had to get through it. His arm would probably become infected if he didn't give it medical attention. How could he, being strapped like this?

The masked man returned with a camera and a knife, they were going to record again.

"Good morning, my dear John. You were out for quite a while, thought you weren't going to make it from a few simple wounds." The man said, his voice was so casual but so angry at once.

They were going to hurt John even more. He looked at the man who seemed to be smirking behind the mask, John couldn't tell though. The man took the knife and cut into John's chest numerous times. John tried so hard to keep quiet and take the pain, he grunted several times. The man then took a picture of what he had done to John. John looked down at the cuts, they weren't too deep, but they drew enough blood to look pretty bad. What kind of sick game was this? What did they want from him or Sherlock? Thoughts of Sherlock flooded his mind again, John hoped he was okay. Thinking about Sherlock seemed to numb the pain, somewhat anyway. He hoped that Sherlock was going to be able to find him soon, before he bled to death or something.


	9. Chapter 9: Tea Will Make Things Better

**AN: This was great to write, I honestly think you'll enjoy it a lot. Reviews and such would be good on this chapter as well, please let me know how I'm doing. :)**

* * *

_**Sherlock's POV**_

Sherlock did the same thing he did yesterday, he paced until it was time for him to get the next clue. Sherlock hadn't slept or eaten for two days, he had bags under his eyes and his stomach hurt by the smell of the food in Angelo's. He went straight to the table right beside the entrance and sat down. What was he supposed to be looking for? Another envelope? Sherlock started looking around the table, he looked under the cloth and under the table. Where was whatever he needed? He didn't even know what he had to be looking for. After searching for a good 30 minutes, Sherlock couldn't find anything. He had one hour and 30 minutes left to find the clue. Once searching everything again, he still couldn't find anything, what if they lied to him? He had one hour left, what if he couldn't find it in time? They'd kill John.

Sherlock presumed his search until he had 5 minutes left to find the clue. He was panicking, he _HAD _to find the clue. He got out of his chair and heard something hit the floor, he bent down and picked it up. It was another envelope, underneath him the whole time. Sherlock went outside and walked very fast, basically running, home. Once he got inside he was greeted by Mrs. Hudson who had a tray of tea.

"Oh Sherlock, have you seen John? I ha-" Sherlock cut her off.

"Not now Mrs. Hudson I'm busy!" He said running up the stairs to his flat, slamming the door behind him. He ripped open the envelope and dumped all the items onto a table. It contained 3 photographs and a letter, Sherlock didn't want to look at the photographs right now. He picked up the letter.

_Sherlock Holmes,_

_You're doing a very good job at finding my clues. But there is plenty more to come. You're little Johnnie boy isn't safe yet. You must go to the art museum tomorrow, there will be another letter containing three coordinates. Two will be in the museum and one will be outback, at those places, there will be a painting. The first and last letter of each painting will give you the town that John is being held in. A cab will be waiting for you outside the art museum when you finish, tell them the correct town and they'll take you somewhere special. You must do this between 4 pm and 8 pm, or you know the drill, John Watson will be dead._

_Good luck Mr. Holmes._

Sherlock was gripping the paper intensly while reading it, as soon as he finished he crumpled it up and threw it into the fire place. He knew where to go and what to do, it wasn't important anymore. He looked down at the photographs, all three were upside down. He picked one up at a time. The first photo contained John's chest, nothing else had been done to it. He then picked up the second photo and saw a knife being dragged across his chest, drawing blood. The last photo contained all of the bloody cuts on John's chest, he was bleeding horribly. If Sherlock couldn't help John anytime soon, those wounds were going to get infected or he would bleed to death.

Sherlock just wanted John to be safe, he plopped down on his chair and put his head in his hands. He started to cry, slowly at first but the tears started pouring out of his eyes. He was so upset with himself, he never wanted this to happen to John. He just wanted John to be safe, that's all he's ever wanted. He's always been so protective over his doctor. Sherlock kept whispering to himself, "I'm so sorry John.." over and over.

* * *

Sherlock's phone went off, he picked it up and wiped away the tears. _Mycroft_ was calling. Sherlock cleared his throat and answered the call.

"Yes Mycroft?" Sherlock tried answering in a normal apathetic voice.

"Hello brother dear, I've assumed you're watching over what is happening to John, correct? We noticed he was, kidnapped." Mycroft sounded concerned.

"You knew?" Sherlock started to grow angry. "You _KNEW _John was taken by these, these, psychos and yet you did NOTHING to stop them, Mycroft?! I have spent the last few days doing all I can to follow these instructions and clues to keep John alive when you _KNEW, _as soon as it happened, that he was kidnapped and you didn't bother to tell me?!"

"Now, Sherlock, calm do-"

"No! I won't calm down! John is out there, somewhere, in pain because of me! You knew about it! You knew! Why the hell didn't you tell me Mycroft?!" Sherlock never got this angry at his brother, but he was furious that Mycroft knew what happened to John as soon as it did. He wanted John back more than anything and Sherlock was going through all this trouble when his brother could have done something. Idiot!

"Because if we would have interfered they would have killed him, Sherlock! The same with you! If you don't follow the clues he will die!" Mycroft cleared his throat. "I'm sorry for yelling, little brother. But you need to realize that we are trying everything we can to find John and get him back to you. We have lost all trace of him since we was kidnapped. I'm sorry, Sherlock."

Sherlock hung up and threw his phone at the wall. He yelled in frustration, he's never been so angry with his brother since they were younger. He looked at the pictures and threw them in the fire pit as well.

Sherlock sat down and started thinking about everything that had happened in the last 24 hours. He found the second clue with five minutes to spare, which contained three photographs and one letter. The letter told him where his next clue was and what to do to find it. Then he broke down crying. _Crying_. Sherlock has never done that before over someone. Ever. He cared so much about John, tears started to sting at his eyes again.

Mrs. Hudson walked into the room carrying the tea and placed it on the table. She gave Sherlock some tissues.

"Here you go dear Sherlock, I know you miss him. You'll solve this case just like you solve the others. John will be back here as soon as you know it." She gave Sherlock the warmest smile she could and handed him a cup of tea. "Drink up, you need energy to save him." He slightly smiled back at her.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson."


	10. Chapter 10: Picture Is Worth 1,000 Words

**AN: This chapter was more difficult to write at first, I didn't want it to be too short so I made it where you see both of their POV's. I also added where you can see who's POV it is to make it easier. Around the end of writing this chapter, that's when it all started to flow and get better, to me. So I hope you enjoy, do you like these kinds of chapters? Switching back and forth? Let me know after you're done reading and give me a review :)**

**P.S. I do not live in the United Kingdom and had to do A LOT of research for this chapter! Sorry if I didn't do the greatest, but I tried!**

* * *

_**John's POV**_

(**This chapter is going to switch from John's POV to Sherlock's POV and vice versa, I will inform you of when it switches, I just didn't want this chapter to be SUPER short.**)

John woke up to the sound of footsteps walking around him. He could barely keep his head up, he has lost a lot of blood and needed medical help, urgently. He coughed up blood, when was Sherlock going to save him? The sound of someone talking startled John.

"Ya' think he's gon' live?" A man with an american accent said, american? Why is an american helping this maniac?

"He'll be fine, he's been in war. This is just like any other day." John could sense that the man who said that was smirking. John felt someone grab onto the arm of his shirt and cut it off, also slicing John's skin. He took a deep breath, he could tell he was going to pass out again. "We'll tell the cabbie to give this to Sherlock when he gets in. If the cabbie tells us Sherlock tries to hurt him, Johnnie boy over here is going to get hurt as well." That was the last thing John heard of that conversation before blackness swept over his eyes.

* * *

_**Sherlock's POV**_

Sherlock was pacing in the living room when he heard someone walk up the stairs and saw Mycroft enter the room. Sherlock glared at him, what did his brother want now? It was almost time for Sherlock to go to the art museum.

"I understand you're angry with me, Sherlock. But I am here to offer you my help." Mycroft sounded sincere and concerned.

"I don't need your help. I can do this on my own." Sherlock was still pacing a glaring at Mycroft. Mycroft grabbed Sherlock's arm to stop him form pacing, but Sherlock smacked Mycroft's arm away. "Don't touch me." Mycroft sighed.

"What is your next clue?"

"I don't know, I have to leave to find it soon."

"I'm going with you."

"NO, you're NOT." Sherlock grabbed his coat and scarf and walked downstairs, slamming the door in Mycroft's face. He went outside to the curb and debated on taking a cab to the art museum. He looked at his phone for the time, it wasn't time for him to start searching, so walking would be fine.

Once Sherlock got to the art museum he looked at the clock, it was 4 pm. Just on time. He looked around, he didn't know what he had to be searching for. A receptionist walked up to him.

"Excuse me, are you Mr. Holmes?" Sherlock nodded. "Good." She handed him an envelope. "Someone left this here for you, something to do with business."

"Ah, uhm, er, thanks." He basically whispered and walked over to a bench and sat down. He opened the envelope and on a little piece of paper were the three coordinates to the three paintings.

Sherlock had to walk to the second floor and to the back of the room to find the first painting. It was Van Gogh's "Starry Night" so that means that the letters he needed were 's' and 't.' Sherlock wrote that down and moved onto the next painting. It was William Hunt's "The Awakening Conscience." The letters he needed were 't' and 'e.' Sherlock moved onto the last painting which was in the back outside. The final painting was by someone Sherlock had never heard of, but it was called "La Berceuse." He needed the 'l' and the 'e.'

* * *

Sherlock returned to the main entrance of the art museum and look at the clock, it was 7:45 pm. Did it really take him that long to figure these out? He had 15 minutes to put the letters together and get into the cab. He looked down at the paper he had be writing on, he had the letters ' e.' Sherlock immediatly knew what town that was, a baby would know what it was. Settle. That was almost 4 hours away, why would they take John the whole way out there? It didn't matter, Sherlock knew where they were holding John. Well, he knew what town.

Sherlock walked out of the art museum and looked around for said cab that was supposed to be there. He couldn't find one, was he too late? He checked his phone, no he had 5 minutes left. Where was this cab? He frantically walked around the whole museum until he found a lonely cab in the back. He paused before going into it, his heart was beating what felt like 1000 times a minute. This was going to take him closer to John. He slightly smiled and got into the cab.

"To Settle." The cab driver looked up in the mirror and nodded, he turned around and handed Sherlock another envelope, what's with all the envelopes? Sherlock opened it and saw that it was a piece of John's shirt. They cut a piece of his bloody shirt off. They haven't done anything to keep him alive.

Sherlock just stared at it the whole ride to Settle, it was going to take a long time to get there. He had a lot of time to think about what to do next.

* * *

_**John's POV**_

(**Inside John's dream**)

John was running around trying to find Sherlock, he was panting and sweating. Sherlock had gotten lost in the woods. He kept looking around in every direction, it felt like he was running in circles.

"SHERLOCK!" He kept screaming for him, but he never heard a response. What if something happened to him? What if someone killed Sherlock? John kept screaming for him over and over while runnin through the forest.

"John?!" Sherlock. He heard Sherlock. He heard him, he was okay. John ran in the direction he heard his name being called out. "Sherlock! Keep talking!"

"John!" Sherlock coughed. "It hurts, John. It hurts.." John finally reached Sherlock and stopped. He looked at his detective and hugged him so tight. Sherlock made a painful noise, he was hurt. John let go and looked at Sherlock all over, he was shot in the arm. John grabbed something and wrapped it around his arm.

"You'll be okay Sherlock, I promise. Nothing bad will ever happen to you." He put his hand on his cheek. Sherlock smiled. "You'll get better soon." Then, by suprise, Sherlock kissed John, holding him close. Sherlock grunted in pain when he lifted his arm to adjust themselves. He pulled back and John smiled.

Then he woke up from his dream. He was still strapped to this chair. "It was just a dream.." He told himself. "Just a _dream_."


	11. Chapter 11: Battle Of The Bullets

**AN: Very, very short chapter. But I know you'll enjoy it. Reviews would be amazing after reading this. :D**

**_Sherlock's POV_**

Once they arrived in Settle, the cabbie dropped Sherlock off in front of an old warehouse building. He told him not to worry about paying, they paid him in advanced. Sherlock got out and the cabbie drove off. He looked around, this was an old clothing warehouse. He walked inside, he didn't know what he was supposed to be looking for. It was dark in the building, and then as if someone was reading his mind, the lights switched on. Blinded by the light for a few seconds, he shielded his eyes until they adjusted. Looking around, there wasn't much of anything except for pillers holding the roof up. No one was anywhere to be seen.

"Hello?" He called out, after a few minutes, someone replied.

"Mr. Holmes, glad to see you arrived." That someone was holding John by the collar of his shirt in one hand and a gun in the other. Sherlock looked at John, oh he looked horrible. He must have been passed out, the masked man dropped John's body to the ground like it was nothing. "Almost thought we lost him a few times, he's still breathing, barely."

John looked terrible, oh so terrible. There was blood all over his body, no wonder he passed out. Blood loss. He was still bleeding. He could die at any moment. Sherlock started to get very, very frustrated and pulled his gun out of his coat pocket and pointed it at the masked man. The man pointed his gun at John.

"Not your most clever idea, Mr. Holmes. I'd put that away." Sherlock could tell, even though he couldn't see his mouth, that the man was smirking.

"Who are you?"

"Oh, you don't know me. You never will. You know who I'm working for, though." Who could that be? He never put the gun down, he kept it pointing at the man. "You heard what I said, Mr. Holmes. Put, the gun, down." The man was getting frustrated with Sherlock but he didn't want to listen. The man cocked back his gun. "Mr. Holmes, I'll willingly murder him right in front of you." Sherlock looked at John, he seemed to be stirring around a little bit. He was trying to wake up. Sherlock took a protective step closer towards John. "Don't do it, Sherlock. I'll shoot." Sherlock looked back up at the man, glaring at him.

The next thing he heard was a gunshot and Sherlock's heart must have dropped into his stomach. The ringing in his ears covered up the sound of John screaming.


	12. Chapter 12: Cigarettes and Hospital Beds

**AN: Enjoy the last chapter? I was going to let you all suffer and wait a whole day for Chapter 12, but I thought other wise. ;)**

* * *

**_John's POV_**

John tried to open his eyes but the light was blinding. He was strapped to a chair anymore, he was laying on concrete floor. He managed to lift his head enough to look in front of him. Sherlock. _Sherlock _was standing in front of John, just maybe 15 feet away. John's heart and stomach started to flutter. He was so close to him. He couldn't hear what he was saying, but he was probably talking to the masked man. Sherlock took a step forward and seemed hesitant. John's mind was screaming for him to come save him, to hold onto John and make him feel safe.

Then John heard a gunshot, he felt the bullet hit him in his leg. He was screaming, he couldn't move his arms to stop the blood, every part of his body hurt. He heard more gunshots, a black shadow started to cover his vision. No, he couldn't pass out, not here. He had to stay awake. Sherlock was going to save him. He knew it. John tried everything he could to keep conscience. He tried getting up and fell right back down. He tried to yell for Sherlock but all that came out of his mouth was a painful moan.

"Sh...Sher...Sherlo.." John couldn't get the words out of his mouth, unconciousness washed over John.

* * *

**_Sherlock's POV_**

As soon as the man shot John, Sherlock lost it. Anger took over his whole entire body and he started shooting, madly, at the man who hurt John. Over and over the bullets shot out from Sherlock's weapon until the man fell over on his back. Sherlock ran up to the man and pointed the gun at his head. "Who the hell made you do this?" The man said nothing, he spit blood at Sherlock. Sherlock stepped on his wounds. "WHO SENT YOU?" The man screamed in pain. He wouldn't give an answer. Sherlock shot him until life disappeared from the man.

John. The man _shot_ John. Sherlock kneeled down to John, he felt his pulse. He was slowly breathing. Sherlock pulled his phone out and called Mycroft, it was the only person he knew that would be there in time to save John.

"Yes, brother dear?" Mycroft asked calmly.

"I n-need your help, John has been shot. Numerous times. He's bleeding to death. Mycroft you have to help me, please. Please Mycroft." Sherlock was on the verge of tears, holding John and wishing for him to be okay.

"Someone will be there to get you and him, Sherlock, calm down." The call ended. Sherlock put his phone away and holds John close to him. Never wanting to let go, he kisses John's forehead lately.

Sherlock waited for about 10 minutes for the ambulance and Mycroft's men to arrive. They had to take John away on and stretcher and Sherlock immediately got in one of Mycroft's cars and demanded for them to follow the ambulance. Once they arrived to the hospital, Sherlock basically jumped out of the car and ran inside. They were taking John into the ER, he was hooked up to so many machines it was unbelievable.

He got so close to John, but the nurses had to pull him away. "Sir, you can't be past this point. Sir please stay back. Sit down." They had to force Sherlock to sit in a chair, he was surrounded by guards to keep him from running to where John was.

After what seemed to be a few hours, a doctor came up to Sherlock. "He'll be okay, we've patched up all the wounds. He's lost a lot of blood, but he's a fighter. He'll have to stay here for a while. Would you like to see him?" All Sherlock could do is nod. "He's asleep right now, so be quiet." Sherlock followed the doctor to John's room.

John looked so helpless and innocent, laying there attached to so many machines. You could hear the heart moniter beep everytime John's heart beat. He had a weak heartbeat, but the doctor promised he'd be okay. Sherlock pulled up a chair because John's hospital bed and sat there, just looking at him. Sherlock lightly put his hand on John's hand, trying so hard not to wake him. John's hand was colder than normal, Sherlock bowed his head a little bit. Thinking to himself, he wished that John was going to be okay. That John would be out of the hospital and go back to being his blogger.

Sherlock spent the rest of the visiting hours holding John's hand until the nurse had to inform him that it was time to go. Sherlock got up and put the chair back, and sulked out front to the hospital where Mycroft was waiting.

"Is he okay?"

"Doctor said he'll be fine. He just lost a lot of blood." Sherlock pulled out a cigarette, he's needed one for days. Mycroft sighed.

"Who do you think did this, Sherlock?"

"I don't know. But I'm going to find out, and they're going to suffer." Sherlock said, the anger boiling back inside him.

"Do me a favor, Sherlock, and don't do anything stupid. I don't need to be seeing you in a hospital bed as well." Mycroft walked away and entered a black car that pulled up. Sherlock put his cigarette out, popped up his coat collar and walked home with his hands in his pockets and his head down.

* * *

**AN: This is not the ending, there is much, much more to come. Have you enjoyed it so far? Let me know in a review! Favorite and follow for future chapters. :D**


	13. Chapter 13: The Game Has Just Begun

**_John's POV_**

John was laying in a hospital bed, IVs running through both arms, hooked up to morphine and some other drugs. He tried to recollect everything that had happened to him in the past few days. Sherlock tried to save him but he was shot, was Sherlock okay? Was he alive? A nurse walked in and disturbed his thoughts, she was checking his IVs and heart moniter when a familiar face walked in the room. It was Sherlock. John smiled, whether it hurt him to smile, he didn't care. Sherlock walked up to the side of his bed, smiling back.

"Hello, John." Sherlock said in a sweet tone. He caressed the doctor's hand lightly. Whether it was weird or not that Sherlock was being touchy, it didn't matter. John loved it. "How are you feeling?"

"I've had better days. I'll be fine. Do you know who did this?" Sherlock shook his head lightly and looked down at John's hand.

"Don't worry about that right now, I'm going to take care of it. You need to rest."

"I don't want to rest, I want to go home." Sherlock sighed lightly.

"You aren't capable of moving very much, John. You're going to stay here and rest." Sherlock's voice sounded agitated, John stopped arguing with the detective. It wasn't going to get him anywhere.

"So what happened to me? I can't remember. All I remember is you standing in front of me.."

"You were kidnapped and tortured, I had to follow their little game to save you. I-I didn't listen to them and they shot you. I thought I was going to lose you." He paused and cleared his throat. "This isn't the end, they're going to come back for more. I have to stop them."

"You can't do this by yourself, Sherlock. Let me help you."

"No, John. I can't let you risk your life again. I'm not going to have you taken away from me again." Sherlock pulled up a chair and sat down beside John's bed. "Close your eyes and sleep, I won't leave you unless I'm told to." John closed his eyes, smiling at the fact that Sherlock was holding his hand. He was lightly rubbing his thumb across John's palm. That's all he thought of for the rest of the time, of Sherlock holding his hand while he slept.

* * *

**_Sherlock's POV_**

John had slept for a decent amount of the time while Sherlock was there. Sherlock caught himself dozing off as well, but woke himself back up. He looked at the time, visiting hours ended soon. He kissed the top of John's hand and returned the chair. He walked out of the hospital and called Mycroft.

"Yes Sherlock?" Mycroft sounded a bit irritated that Sherlock had disturbed him.

"Do you have a lead on who did this?" Sherlock pulled out a cigarette.

"We have a few ideas, I'd like to meet you somewhere, if you don't mind. Talk about what stupid ideas are going through your head." Sherlock sighed in frustration.

"My flat. Now." He hung up and took a cab back home, once he got out he noticed one of Mycroft's cars was already there. He went inside and walked up to the flat, as soon as he went in, Mycroft was sitting in Sherlock's chair waiting for him.

"You could have waited."

"This is urgent." Mycroft handed Sherlock two files. The first one was of a man named James Moriarty and the second was of Charles Augustus Magnussen. Sherlock's eyes widened as he looked at the files. He thought he got rid of both of them.

"This isn't, no. This isn't possible. They're both _dead_, Mycroft. I killed them both." Sherlock's voice was shaky, this wasn't possible at all.

"Oh they're not dead Sherlock." Mycroft got up. "My people believe one of them was behind this, but we aren't sure as to who."

"Well figure it out." Anger was rising in his voice.

"That's why I came to you, Sherlock. So you could figure it out." Mycroft took the files from Sherlock. "Figure it out soon, they'll strike again." With that, Mycroft left. Sherlock sat down and thought about the files, Moriarty and Magnussen. Why? What did they want from him? Revenge? It couldn't be Magnussen. He wouldn't conflict revenge, but Moriarty would.

Sherlock made two cups of tea without even thinking about it. He needed time to think, but with Mycroft's last comment, Sherlock's brain was messed up. _'They'll strike again.'_ Strike again? They would take John, again. This time they'd probably kill him. Sherlock just wanted to sit at John's hospital bed all day and night to keep him safe but they wouldn't allow him. Sherlock couldn't think straight on who it could be. What if both of them were behind this? No, they'd never work together, would they?

* * *

**_Mycroft's POV_**

(**Something I wanted to add for affect, Mycroft will not be a main character.)**

Once Mycroft got into the car he recieved a text, expecting it to be his brother, he looked at it.

_The game has just begun._

_JM_

* * *

**AN: I thought you'd really enjoy the touch of Mycroft's POV, to add to the story line. Things are going to get much, much worse. Enjoy.**

**Send me some reviews please!**

**(If you're wondering on the timeline of this, it is after season 3, so if you haven't seen season 3, you wouldn't understand some of it. BUT! This doesn't give away any spoilers, I hope not anyway. ;D)**

**P.S. I apologize for the grammar errors in the past, my word document doesn't catch most of them and I never notice them until AFTER I post the chapter, I'm being more careful now.**


	14. Chapter 14: He's Back

**AN: This chapter had me stuck with writer's block. I didn't think I would have finished it today, pretty glad I did.**

* * *

**_Sherlock's POV_**

Sherlock slept peacefully that night, maybe he didn't have to bring up his feelings with John. Maybe John already knew, obviously he knew. Mycroft texted Sherlock a screen shot of what Moriarty sent him last night. So, it was Moriarty, who kidnapped John and almost killed him. Sherlock spent all day planning on what to do next, he realized that it was late, and he could ony visit John for about a hour. He had to see him though, to make sure he was okay.

Sherlock grabbed his coat and scarf and headed to the hospital, where he went to John's room. The ex-military doctor was wide awake, smiling when Sherlock walked in. Sherlock returned the smile and pulled up a chair to his usual spot.

"Sorry I'm late." Sherlock had to apologize, he felt horrible for not spending all day with John.

"It's fine, at least you're here now, right?" Sherlock nodded, he put John's hand in his. "Do you know who did it yet?" Sherlock's smile was wiped away with that question, he didn't want to tell John. It would bring back the memories of when Sherlock faked his death and left John for three years. He cleared his throat.

"Moriarty." John's face fell, he became pale and cold. Sherlock sighed. "He sent a text message to Mycroft, saying 'The game has just begun.' Which means Moriarty has bigger plans ahead. I'm wo- I don't want to leave you here alone." Sherlock couldn't admit that he was worried for John, he was, but feelings were still new to him and he didn't want to admit something like that yet.

"You're worried for me, aren't you? He's not going to get me, Sherlock. I'm in a hospital with security. I'll be okay." Sherlock looked away from him.

"You don't know that, John, it's Moriarty. He could be here for all we know." Sherlock's voice raised in anger.

"Calm down, Sherlock. It will be okay."

"I don't want him anywhere near you! Not again. He'd kill you. I can NOT lose you forever. It'd be the death of me." For as upsetting as that sounded, Sherlock saw John smile.

"I'll be out of this hospital bed soon and running with you after him." Sherlock looked at him. No, John couldn't go with him whether he was okay or not. It was too dangerous, this was Sherlock's war. Not John's. John must have read Sherlock's mind, because he squeezed his hand. "It'll be okay, love." Sherlock smiled a great big smile and chuckled a little. Sherlock saw John look up at the door and he followed his eyes to see Mycroft, standing at the door.

"Hello John, how are you feeling?" He walked in a bit. "I assume Sherlock has told you the recent events that have occured..?" John just nodded. Sherlock stood up. "Sit, Sherlock. I just came here to talk to you both." Mycroft closed the door behind him.

* * *

**_John's POV_**

"About what?" The tension in Sherlock's voice was great, John could tell this was uncomfortable for him.

"Sherlock, brother dear, how do you plan on going after Moriarty?" Mycroft sat down and stared at Sherlock.

"Finding him and killing him." Mycroft looked at Sherlock with huge disappointment.

"He sent me another text this morning, it's like he knows your every thought, Sherlock." Mycroft smirked and showed the text to Sherlock and John.

_If Sherlock comes after me, he can wish his John good-bye. I will find him and talk to him when the time is necessary. There are deals to be made and times to be, made up._

_JM_

"With that, Sherlock, I would be smart to not go looking for him." Mycroft looked at a building across the street from the hospital. "Do you see that person there? On the top floor? He has a sniper rifle pointed straight at John. He'll know if you go after Moriarty. He'll kill John."

_Great_, John thought to himself, _more for me to worry about._ Sherlock held John's hand tighter, making John wince in pain. Sherlock released his hand and sat back down.

"What am I supposed to do? Wait for Moriarty to show up at my doorstep?"

"Wouldn't be the first time, brother dear." Mycroft gave Sherlock that look, that look where he knew that Moriarty went to his house after the trial 6 years back. Sherlock looked away from his brother.

"What does Moriarty want with Sherlock, though? Shouldn't everything be handled with him? Shouldn't it be over?" John questioned, Moriarty's name hadn't been mentioned in years.

"It's never over with Moriarty." Sherlock stood up, walked to his brother, forced him up and out of the room. He basically slammed the door shut behind him and went over to John. John chuckled at him.

"You're so mean to your brother."

"Oh you know, childhood fights." He kissed John's forehead. "I'll return tomorrow." Sherlock then left John laying there by himself.

* * *

About 2 hours had passed since Sherlock left, John wasn't able to sleep with what he knew. Someone was pointing a gun at him right now and at any second they could murder him. That sent chills down his spine, what did Moriarty want? Sherlock wouldn't disobey Mycroft if it had John's life on the line. John tried to calm himself down but all he wanted was Sherlock to be here with him. He closed his eyes and slowly drifted off into sleep.

* * *

**_Sherlock's POV_**

Sherlock was on his way to the hospital when he actually looked up at the building opposite of John's room, he noticed the sniper. Anger started to boil up in his blood, he couldn't do anything about that damn sniper. Once the cabbie stopped, Sherlock paid and entered the hospital. Once on the floor of John's room, he noticed that nurses were rushing to John's room. Sherlock started to walk a little bit faster, he heard the long beep of the heart moniter in John's room, his heart stopped. They were trying to revive him. Sherlock tried to go into the room but two nurses were holding him back.

"No, no, that's my friend. Please, please let me through, please!" They kept pushing him back.

"Come on we have to try something, his heart is failing on him!" Sherlock heard one of the doctors yell. His knees started to go weak and he fell onto them. No, no, please. No.

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**AN: I know I ask for reviews a lot, but it's really nice to get them on what you guys think and please, PLEASE, let me know if I am doing something that you don't like! Reviews really help me write the chapters!**


	15. Chapter 15: Returning Home

**AN: The whole idea of this chapter hit me in the face, if I do say so myself. Goodness, I just got overwhelmed with wanting to write this chapter out very badly. I stopped everything I was doing and I HAD to type this up.**

**PLEASE. GIVE ME REVIEWS. PLEASE. I feel like I'm doing something wrong sometimes and I REALLY want to know if you're enjoying the story and even if you aren't! Negative feedback is better than none! (But positive feedback is the best! :D)**

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**_Sherlock's POV_**

Sherlock was pacing outside of John's hospital room, the doctors said he was going to be fine. Heart failure they said, but Sherlock believed it was something to do with Moriarty. He was starting to get very, very paranoid. With how John's life was a puppet and Moriarty had taken control. Anything Sherlock did wrong, John had to pay for it.

A nurse walked out and looked at Sherlock, she nodded, allowing him to go inside. Sherlock walked as fast as he could to John's bedside. "Are you okay? How are you feeling? Do you feel light headed? Do you want something to drink?" John held up a hand to silence Sherlock, he wasn't in the mood to be flooded with questions.

"I'm alright, Sherlock." He coughed. "Just ran into a bit of an issue this morning."

"But you're fine now? Yes?" John nodded. Sherlock was so worried for him, he just wanted him out of that hospital bed, but Moriarty was going to pro-long his stay as much as possible. "I'm sorry you're going through all of this, John, I really am. I never meant for anything bad to happen to you." Sherlock held John's hand, rubbing his thumb in circles on John's palm.

"Has Moriarty contacted you yet?"

"No, but I have a feeling he will soon. He's trying to scare me into going after him by hurting you. Mycroft hasn't informed me on any other contact. You'll be out of here soon." Sherlock gave him a reassuring smile, it was bad that he lied to John, but he had to make him happy somehow.

"Don't lie to me, Sherlock. I know when you're lying." John looked out the window.

"Don't look out there. You don't need to be looking at who could kill you, John." Sherlock lightly put his hand on John's cheek and moved his head to face him. "You're going to be okay. Moriarty isn't going to win."

"And if he does?" John raised an eyebrow.

"There isn't a chance in the world that I'd let that happen." Sherlocks phone went off, someone was calling him. He pulled out his phone, blocked number. He slid his finger across the green bar and put his phone up to his ear.

"Sherlock Holmes."

"Ohh, Sherlock, it's time." There was a manly giggle on the other end, _Moriarty_.

"Where do you want to meet me?"

"Oh the usual. You know? Your place, sexy." The call ended, Sherlock put his phone away.

"I have to go." He kissed John, just a small kiss. When he pulled away he smiled. "I'll return as soon as I can." He popped up his coat collar and left the hospital, he walked the rest of the way home.

* * *

Once he walked inside and went up to his flat, there was Moriarty. Sitting in _his _chair with an apple, just like the last time they met.

"Oh Sherlock Holmes! You've arrived." Moriarty smirked.

"What do you want from me?" The anger was very obvious in Sherlock's voice.

"What have I always wanted Sherlock? To _burn_ you. If I have to use your little Johnnie boy to do so, oh baby I will. I will drive you_ insane_." Moriarty looked more crazy than he did the last time he and Sherlock had talked.

"And if you fail again?"

"I won't, don't you worry about that. If the low chance I do, John Watson will suffer." Moriarty got up and walked out of the flat. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and yelled up, "You aren't going to save him, Sherlock!" Sherlock stood there as he listened to Moriarty leave, he walked over to the window, watching him. Moriarty got into a cab and sped off. Sherlock had to go back to John and tell him what happened.

* * *

Once Sherlock got to John's hospital room, John was fast asleep. Sherlock walked out of the room and called Mycroft to tell him the news.

"Yes Sherlock?" He was out of breath, breathing heavy.

"Running again, Mycroft?" He didn't wait for an answer. "It's Moriarty, he's at it again. He wants to do the same as before, except if I don't listen, he- he'll kill John."

"I guess you should listen to him then, Sherlock." Sherlock got mad at that comment Mycroft made.

"He was going to continue to keep John in the hospital, he wants to drive me crazy."

"Well, he's almost there." Mycroft hung up and Sherlock went back into John's hospital room, just in time, John had woken up. Sherlock smiled at him.

"Good, you're awake."

"How was talking to Moriarty?"

"Simple, I know what to do." John's face went pale when he said that. Sherlock thought about what he said, oh, John probably thought he had to kill himself, again. "No, no, John. Not that. Don't worry. I'll never do that again. I know how to defeat Moriarty for real this time." Sherlock gave John a big smile.

"You better be telling me the truth, Sherlock." A doctor walked in, disturbing their conversation. Sherlock looked at the doctor, he didn't realize that he was sitting on the side on John's bed. He got up and brushed himself off. He nodded at the doctor.

"Mr. Watson will be able to return home tomorrow night, but he'll need rest, alright? Plenty of it, too." The doctor checked John's IVs, wrote on his clipboard, and then left the room, closing the door behind him. Sherlock smiled at John, good, he'll be glad to have _his_ doctor back in their flat. Hopefully Moriarty won't do anything to John to force him to stay longer. He walked back to John's beside and sat down in the chair, he held his hand.

* * *

Sherlock woke up, head laying on John's hand, he was still at the hospital. He fell asleep, the nurses didn't even bother to tell him to leave. He looked up at John, who was still sleeping. He smiled, he was so wonderful while he slept, calm and peaceful looking. He lightly took his hand away from John's, trying not to wake him. He kissed his forehead and walked out, nodding at the nurse who was sitting at a desk, a gesture to thank her. He walked back home, putting his coat and scarf away as soon as he walked into the living room.

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**_John's POV_**

John was out of the hospital bed, getting dressed in the bathroom that was in the back of his hospital room. Once he finished, he walked out and went outside of the room to the receptionist's desk to sign his discharge papers. Sherlock promised he'd be here when John got to leave, but maybe something was holding him back. He signed the papers and walked out of the hospital, he was still in enough pain to not be able to walk the length home so he called a cab.

He got out, paid the cabbie, and went up to the familiar old flat. It felt like he hadn't been in here for months. He walked into the living room, closed the door, took his coat off and hung it up.

"Sherlock? I'm ho-" Something out of the corner of his eye cut him off, he turned around.

There was Moriarty, sitting in _Sherlock's_ chair, smirking.

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**AN: Don't forget to give me a review. Also, if you're enjoying the story, follow and favorite it! The support really helps me want to write the next chapter! :)**


	16. Chapter 16: Bang Bang

**_John's POV_**

John took a defensive step back. "Jim Moriarty."

"That's my name, Johnnie boy." He smiled and stood up. "Did you enjoy the little thing I did with you a few days back? Oh I love watching Sherlock dance around to save you."

"You're not going to kill me, are you?"

"Those are my intentions, but I don't get my hands dirty. I came here alone, I'm not going to kill you, _yet_." Moriarty was enjoying himself too much with talking about killing John, that made John shudder.

"What do you want then?"

"I want you to suffer. Suffer from everything I had to while Sherlock tried _so_ hard to erase me. Well I'm back in business baby." He walked up to John and looked him up and down. Smiling at him. "Oh I'm going to have fun with you, Johnnie boy."

Two men walked into the flat and grabbed John by the arms, dragging him downstairs. He tried fighting back. "LET ME GO!" They just tightened their grip. They got to the curb and put him into a black car. Moriarty walked outside and went into a different car.

"Where the hell are we going?!" They put something over John's mouth and he slowly started to lose consciousness.

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_**Sherlock's POV**_

Sherlock walked into the flat and looked around, something was different. He went to hang his coat up and saw John's coat. He was back? So early?

"John?! Are you home?" Sherlock looked around for something to show John was around, but nothing. He sat down in his chair and looked over at the table. A single apple sat there, Sherlock grabbed it. When he turned the apple in his hand, he noticed that there was a note carved into it.

_I have him_

_JM_

No. Not again. Sherlock just got John back and this is what happens to him! He loses him again! What could Moriarty possibly want to do to him now? That thought stopped Sherlock completely, he heart started to pound as if it would burst from his chest.

_Kill him_. Moriarty would _kill_ John. To get whatever he wanted from Sherlock, he would gleefully murder John. But what did Moriarty want? His phone went off, it seemed Moriarty knew every thought Sherlock was having.

_Meet me at the pool like last time, bad boy._

_JM_

Why the pool, again? Sherlock grabbed John's gun out of his coat pocket, grabbing his own coat and scarf and exiting the flat. He entered a cab and told the cabbie to drive to the pool. Once he got there he got out and paid. Casually walking into the pool, no one was to be seen or heard. He was alone, that is, until Moriarty walked into view.

"Where's John?" Sherlock asked, getting frustrated too quickly.

"Now with that tone of voice Sherlock, you'll definitly never see him again." Moriarty took a step forward. "Do you remember Sherlock? Everything I ever said to you?"

"Of course."

"Well, are you ready for this, Sherlock? Are you ready to lose?" Moriarty narrowed his eyes at Sherlock. John was pushed into view, a little bit in front of Moriarty. John was shaking but trying so hard to keep calm. Sherlock couldn't see Moriarty, all he could see was John. Who was okay and walking and looking wonderful in every way possible. Sherlock heard the sound of a click, from a gun, and looked behind John. Moriarty had pulled out a pistol and pointed it at the back of John's head.

"I thought you didn't do the dirty work." Sherlock's whole body started to go into panic, but he did a really good job at keeping his composure.

"Oh when it comes to something like this, I just have to." John looked at Sherlock, he was breathing fast, sharp breaths.

"Sherlock.." John was on the verge of tears, he just wanted to hold John and tell him that it was going to be okay. But he couldn't. Because it _wasn't_ going to be okay. John _was_ going to die. Sherlock couldn't do anything to change what was going to happen.

"Anything you'd like to say to your little friend, Sherlock? Before I murder him?" Moriarty raised an eyebrow at him. "Nice way to end things, you know." Sherlock pulled out John's gun and pointed it at Moriarty.

"Put the weapon down, Moriarty. Or I will do everything I can to kill you." Moriarty started laughing.

"Oh Sherlock, you try so hard to make things complicated." Moriarty said, irritation rising in his voice. Sherlock tightened his grip on the gun, aiming it perfectly at Moriarty's head.

Then there was the sound of one single gunshot.


	17. Chapter 17: Bloody Water

**AN: No, this isn't really that long of a chapter but goodness, it's wonderful to me. I hope you've been loving my cliffhangers. ;)**

**P.S. Don't think this is the end. There is always more to come.**

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_**John's POV**_

John heard two gunshots, simultaneously go off. He braced himself, but nothing happened. His ears were ringing, he couldn't hear anything. He opened his eyes and looked around, there was blood in the water. He ran over to the edge and there was Sherlock's body, floating half way down to the bottom on the pool. John panicked and jumped into the pool after him, grabbing Sherlock's body and swimming to the surface. He got Sherlock out of the pool and climbed out, breathing heavy, John coughed up water. He kneeled down to Sherlock's body and started to give him CPR.

"Come on Sherlock please! God dammit!" John continued to give him CPR, Sherlock was losing blood fast. "Don't you do this to me you damn detective! Don't you dare!" John wouldn't give up, Sherlock had to be alive, he had to survive this. John heard the faint noise of Moriarty moan in pain. They shot each other, at the exact same time. Tears were running down John's face, he couldn't lose Sherlock like this. He just couldn't.

"Someone help us! Please! Someone!" John started calling out, like someone was listening. "PLEASE!" He broke down. He couldn't take it, John's emotions took over his body and he broke down crying over Sherlock's body. This was it. This was the end of Sherlock Holmes.

John checked Sherlock's pulse and it was very slow and very faint. He was still there, he was still alive, for now. He went over to Moriarty, he just wanted to finish him off. But John was better than that, he checked Moriarty's pulse, it was stronger than Sherlock's. John was still crying, but he grabbed a towel that was laying on the floor and tried his hardest to stop the blood flow from Moriarty's gunshot wound. He did the same thing with Sherlock.

John sat on his knees beside Sherlock, holding his hand making sure that his pulse was still there. He kissed his forehead, hoping he'd be okay. John heard the sound of an ambulance outside, he never called them, who did? Paramedics came running in, putting Sherlock and Moriarty on seperate stretchers. They rushed to get oxygen masks on both of them, trying to talk to them and get some response.

"Let me go with Sherlock! Let me go with him, please." John cried with pleading eyes, he wanted to be in the ambulance with Sherlock. One of the paramedics allowed him in the back of the ambulance, he sat and held Sherlock's hand the whole ride to the hospital.

* * *

John had been pacing the surgery waiting room for a good 5 hours until a surgeon came out. The surgeon looked tired and frustrated, even worn out. John stopped pacing and looked at the surgeon, basically begging him to tell him that Sherlock was okay. The surgeon removed his face mask, looking disappointed. He hesitated before talking, probably thinking of how to put things.

"Jim Moriarty did not survive the surgery. We got the bullet out and patched everything up, but he had lost much more blood than we expected." He paused, letting John take it in.

"I don't care about Moriarty, how is Sherlock?" John's voice cracked when he said Sherlock's name, he just wanted him to be alive and breathing.

"We had to move Sherlock to the intensive care unit, the bullet bit his left lung and nipped his heart. He lost much more blood than Moriarty. He should be okay, he just has to stay in ICU for a few weeks to recover." The surgeon looked hopeful with what he said. Sherlock was alive. Sherlock survived and Moriarty didn't, Moriarty _lost_. John smiled greatly, he got all excited and pulled his phone out, calling Mycroft.

"Yes John? A bit busy at the moment." Mycroft seemed out of it, like he really was busy.

"Sherlock is alive, he survived the gunshot wound by Moriarty. He's okay." Just by hearing John, it was obvious he was smiling.

"And Moriarty?"

"He died during the procedure." Mycroft made a sound of approval over the phone.

"Good, we won't have to deal with his games anymore." John kept smiling and hung up. He looked at the surgeon. "May I see him?"

"We'd like you to wait until tomorrow to do so, Sherlock needs plenty of rest from the surgery." The surgeon smiled at John and John nodded back, leaving the hospital and going back to the flat. Once he arrived he told Mrs. Hudson the news and made two cups of tea. He sat in his regular chair and stared happily at where Sherlock would be sitting. Soon enough, he'll be here with him, just like old times.


	18. Chapter 18: Flowers and Feelings

**AN: I'm so sorry this is posting later than normal, I had major writer's block and I've been dealing with stress but I would have felt horrible if I don't post at least one chapter a day.**

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_**Sherlock's POV**_

Sherlock awoke in a hopsital bed. He groaned, looking around slightly, it was a regular hospital room. He couldn't remember why he was here or what had happened. It didn't matter though, because he saw John standing by the window looking out. He smiled, how long had John been standing there? He turned around and sat in the chair beside Sherlock's bed.

"Hey you." John was smiling.

"What happened, John? What happened to me?" John looked down at Sherlock's hand and held it lightly.

"You went to see Moriarty, because he had me. You both shot each other at the exact same time. You fell back into the water and I went in after you. I thought I lost you again Sherlock, I really did. Someone must have called the ambulance because the paramedics showed up and took you both away. You were in surgery for about five hours.. The surgeon came out and told me that Moriarty didn't survive, but you did." He looked up at Sherlock and leaned forward a bit to kiss his cheek. He then placed a hand where he kissed, and caressed his cheek. "I'm just happy you're alive, Sherlock."

"So Moriarty is dead? It's confirmed?" Sherlock had to be sure of it, he didn't want any more of his games.

"Yes, Sherlock. Jim Moriarty is dead." Sherlock nodded in approval and leaned back, sighing.

"My chest hurts." Sherlock whined, John chuckled, what was he laughing about?

"Obviously, my dear Sherlock, the bullet hit your left lung and nipped your heart. They said you'll be in the hospital for a few weeks."

"Oh screw the hospital, I'd like to leave by tomorrow." Sherlock noticed John glaring at him, but all Sherlock wanted to do was go home and solve another case.

"You are not leaving until the doctors say so, Sherlock." Authority rising in John's voice.

"And if I do?" Sherlock asked, teasing him. John smiled in response.

"You're going to stay right here and you're going to get better, the cases can wait." John patted Sherlock's hand. That frustrated Sherlock, he just wanted to get up and move around, laying in this bed would be the end of him.

"I'm bored." Sherlock whined. "Bored, bored, bored, bored. I'm going to stay bored, in this bed, for weeks. This is torture John, pure torture." John just laughed, he was enjoying this too much. "It's not funny." Sherlock whined.

"Oh it's funny alright, Sherlock. You might be able to get up in a day or two to walk around, but you have a while to heal."

"So? I can get better at home, take care of myself, all these machines can come with me." He looked at John, who was looking at Sherlock's hands and rubbing circles on them with his thumb. John let out a frustrated sigh, so Sherlock knew to just shut up. Sherlock grabbed the bed remote and hit the button to move the bed up in a sitting position. "I'm sorry, John. I didn't mean to make you mad. I hate hospitals. I always have. I want to go home."

"I'll see what I can do to get you home in a few days, okay Sherlock?" John got up and leaned over Sherlock, his face only centimeters from Sherlock's. Sherlock smiled, and lifted his arms to hold John. He grunted in pain, John accidentally pushed down on his chest. John saw what he did and immdiatly got up.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. Please don't be mad at me."

"It's fine, John, you didn't mean to. I understand." Sherlock smiled to calm him down and pulled him back towards him. "Just be careful, please." John didn't touch Sherlock this time, he just hovered over him a bit. Sherlock kissed John and tried to hold him close but John wouldn't move any closer.

Lestrade walked in and paused, looking at them. He cleared his throat and John pulled away immediatly. Lestrade just laughed a little.

"So, I see some rumors do become true." Lestrade smiled at them. "It's good to know something makes you happy, Sherlock."

"I didn't expect you to be visiting, Lestrade, sorry.." Lestrade shrugged it off. They all continued to talk until visiting hours had ended, Sherlock gave John a kiss before he left and John promised he'd return in the morning.

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_**John's POV**_

John slept happily on the couch, he was too worn out to go up to his room. He woke up to Mrs. Hudson making him a cup of tea and some eggs for breakfast. John got up and stretched before walking over and thanking Mrs. Hudson, she patted his back and left. John ate and got a shower, then grabbed his coat and headed for the hospital.

Once he arrived he immediatly went to the little gift store to buy a flower for Sherlock. As he was walking out with his newly bought flower, he noticed a familiar face sitting in a waiting room. _Magnussen. _John tried to act casual and walked fast to Sherlock's hospital room, which was on the third floor. He knocked lightly and went in, Sherlock was wide awake, sitting in a wheelchair facing the window. He turned his head to face John and smiled.

"Hello John, oh you brought me a flower. Thank you." Sherlock's smile widened. John walked over to Sherlock and sat in a chair beside him, handing him the flower. Sherlock smelled it and exhaled happily. He placed the flower on the window. "Thank you, again, John." John smiled and kissed him.

"I have to tell you something, Sherlock." Sherlock slightly tilted his head to the side.

"What's wrong?" He took John's hand and held it. "Are you okay?"

"I s-saw, I saw.." John couldn't get the words out, he didn't know how Sherlock would react.

"You saw what, John?"

"I saw Magnussen." Sherlock's face become paler than usual, the blood draining from his face. There was a knock at the door. Sherlock turned his head slowly and there he was.

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**AN: How did you like this chapter? I kind of wanted to show Sherlock and John's emotions towards each other a lot more and so I made this chapter all lovey and stuff but then completely left you with a beautiful cliffhanger because that's what horrible-y wonderful writers do. ;D Reviews/Favorites/Follows are greatly appreciated! :D**


	19. Chapter 19: 221B Baker Street, Please

**AN: I hope you're enjoying this! :D**

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_**Sherlock's POV**_

Charles Augustus Magnussen walked into the hospital room like he owned the place, lightly feeling some of the flowers others had brought in, picking up a 'get well soon' card then placing it back down. He sat in a chair across from John and Sherlock, eyeing them, looking at everything he knew about the two. Magnussen chuckled a bit and continued to stare at them, probably going through all of their 'pressure points,' as he calls them. No one said anything, Sherlock was too nervous too and John looked horrified to even be 50 feet near him. So Sherlock waited and kept silent, as did John, until Magnussen spoke.

"Love. You two, _love _each other." Magnussen laughed at that. Sherlock felt John tense up, so in response Sherlock squeezed his hand lightly, he hoped that John wouldn't think of doing something stupid. Magnussen didn't say anything after that and Sherlock still didn't want to speak. Magnussen's cold, harsh eyes fixiated on them both. Magnussen was mainly focused on John, barely looking over at Sherlock. He cleared his throat to speak.

"How did you survive, Sherlock? You should be dead from where the bullet penetrated your body." He looked over at Sherlock, curious. Sherlock was still nervous to speak. "You can talk."

"I don't know. I don't remember any of it."

"Oh yes you do, you just don't want to look for it." Magnussen stood up, brushed himself off, and headed towards the door. "I assume I shall see both of you later to talk about a few things, you know, important things." He walked out, closing the door behind him. John let out a huge breath like he had been holding it the whole time.

"Why was he here Sherlock? Why? What if he tries to burn me again? What if he does something to me? Anything?" John went into a panic mode and got up, pacing the room. "I can't deal with him, we just got rid of Moriarty and it's going to be much harder to get through Magnussen and I can't deal with all of this." He stopped and looked at Sherlock, who was just watching him. "Say something Sherlock!" He continued to pace.

"What am I supposed to say? Magnussen is a business man, he doesn't plot to murder people. I doubt he'd do anything to you John.." Doubt was in Sherlock's voice, obvious doubt.

"He almost killed me before, Sherlock! You saved me, remember? Of course you remember! We also went to his house or whatever and you shot him but it wasn't really him or something? I don't know, but dammit Sherlock I just want us to be safe for once!" John was panicking and he was mad, this wasn't a very good combination.

"Sit."

"What?" John completely stopped to looked at Sherlock, confused.

"Sit down, John. Please." So John listened to Sherlock and sat down where he was before. Sherlock took his hand, his pulse was outstanding. His heart seemed to beat at exactly 114 beats per minute. "You need to take a deep breath and calm down for me, okay John? Can you do that for me?" John listened to Sherlock, he closed his eyes and took numerous deep breaths. "Now, I don't know what Magnussen wants, all I know is, he's going to do something that involves hurting one of us, okay? Probably you, you're my biggest..pressure point, to him. You are what he can harm to get to me the most. He knows this, that's why he said that we love each other, he was going through our pressure points and finding what could hurt us the most, each other. I don't know what he's planning to do, but it won't be pretty. It might be like before and it might not. But right now I need you to stay calm and don't let him get to you, can you do that for me?" John nodded slowly. Sherlock pulled John's hand to his lips and kissed it, then placed his hand back in John's lap.

"I'm going to talk to a nurse or doctor about getting you discharged tomorrow okay?" John got up and walked out of the room slowly and carefully, he was still panicked and on edge. Sherlock sighed and stared out the window.

* * *

John returned after about a hour, Sherlock was still in the same spot as before. He looked up at John who sat down angrily in his chair.

"What happened?" Sherlock asked, taking John's hand.

"Well after about 30 minutes of arguing with a nurse, a doctor showed up and said that you may return home in two days with the required equipment. Like your morphine and you must not be unhooked from it until a week from when you return home, but then you must give yourself shots of morphine when you start to feel pain. He also said you had to be careful and no running around after murderers, he said he will talk to Lestrade and have him make sure you aren't working on any cases. So listen to the doctor, okay Sherlock?" John made a sigh of relief, he was glad to finally let all of that out.

"But he's not my doctor, you're my doctor." Sherlock whined.

"You're going to listen to what that doctor says, alright? Because it's the same thing I'd make you do." Sherlock made an irritated noise and looked out the window. "Have you heard anything from Mycroft?"

"He hasn't been here since I was put in the hospital."

"But he knows you're here.." John sounded concerned.

"Don't worry, he's probably busy with something important, hopefully." Just as Sherlock finished saying that, Mycroft walked in. Sherlock rolled his eyes, great, he didn't want Mycroft here anyway. John and Sherlock couldn't seem to have any privacy at all lately.

"Sherlock, why do you not listen to me? I told you not to do anything stupid this time. You never listen." Mycroft looked at John. "Hello John, how are you feeling after what happened? You look much better." John nodded a thanks to him. "What's wrong? You both seem oddily quiet."

"Magnussen was here. In this room." Sherlock looked at Mycroft and watched as every emotion that was on Mycroft's face turned into pure fear.

"What did you just say?"

"You heard me, Mycroft." Mycroft sat down and stared at them.

"What did he say?"

"Not much. He just kind of.. said a few things and left."

"Like what, Sherlock?" He narrowed his eyes at him, Sherlock started to get frustrated with his brother until he felt John squeeze his hand to calm him down.

"He told me that John and I loved each other and asked me how I survived being shot." Sherlock replied in a nasty tone. Mycroft stood up and pulled out his phone.

"I'm going to call a few people, I'll leave you two alone for the rest of the night." Mycroft dialed a number, put his phone to his ear and left. Sherlock looked at John who was still staring at the door.

"It'll be okay, John. Mycroft is going to do everything he can to keep us safe." That snapped John out of whatever trance he was in and looked at Sherlock with sad eyes.

"I just want us to be okay. That's all.." John's voice was but a whisper, so quiet and innocent. John was so scared for what could happen to them.

"I'll be sent home soon, don't worry." For the rest of the visiting hours, John and Sherlock held hands while staring out the window, both thinking of what could come in the near future.

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_**John's POV**_

(**Two days later**)

Everyday John had went to the hospital to check on Sherlock and he always stayed until the end of visiting hours, but today, John was helping Sherlock get dressed and get him ready to go home. John was smiling the whole time, finally glad they could be home at the flat together, he was tired of sleeping in the flat alone and waking up every morning to Mrs. Hudson making him breakfast. The gesture was nice though, she was trying to keep John from having too much stress. After Sherlock was ready, they slowly walked to a receptionist's desk and Sherlock filled out the discharge papers. John thanked the receptionist and walked out of the hospital, holding Sherlock's hand.

"We should take a cab, you shouldn't be walking far distances." John called for a cab and when one pulled up, he helped Sherlock inside.

"Where you two headed?"

"221B Baker Street, please." The cabbie pulled away from the curb and headed towards Baker Street. Once they arrived, John got out and helped Sherlock out, then he paid the cabbie and headed inside to their flat. He helped Sherlock up the stairs and Sherlock walked over to his favorite chair and sat down. John started to make tea.

"Oh, yes, I'd love tea. I haven't had it in days." Sherlock picked up the most recent paper. Flipping through it. "Nothing has happened while I was in the hospital, that's suprising. You'd think the killers out there would go crazy." John laughed and gave Sherlock his cup of tea before sitting down.

"No clients have showed up while you were gone either." John picked up his laptop and went onto his blog, to type up the story of what happened to Sherlock and Moriarty.

"Are you really going to blog about it, John?" Raising an eyebrow at him. John nodded and continued typing. It took him about 25 minutes to finish typing up his blog and he posted it. Closing his laptop and putting it on the table, he looked at Sherlock, who was fast asleep on his chair. John wouldn't be able to get Sherlock to the couch without waking him, so he just sat and watched him, making sure he was okay.

John always wondered what went on in Sherlock's head, with his mind palace in there and almost every single moment of his life stored up there. Sherlock probably remembered things from when he was just a baby, doubtful, but anything was possible with Sherlock Holmes. John was just staring at Sherlock, looking at every detail of him. He had a much calmer face while he slept, none of the apathetic attitude crossed his facial features. Was Sherlock always afraid of his feelings? Had he never felt emotions? These were the types of questions that John was always scared to ask him about, because he didn't know how Sherlock would respond. Whenever John seemed to bring up Sherlock's past, he would shrug it off and ignore it. Why didn't Sherlock like speaking about his past? John didn't know very much about him, he's met his parents twice though, they seemed like ordinary people with two very bright children. That must be strange for them, having two sons who would easily take control of everything. Well, one of them was already doing that, Mycroft was apart of the British government. Sherlock had said how he 'was' the British government. Probably true, but why didn't Sherlock do something like that? Work for the government or something else? With his mind, he'd be wonderful at it. Why did Sherlock want to help solve murders? Did he pity the victim's family? No, Sherlock didn't have feelings, remember? Sherlock himself, was a mysterious man. You never knew what he was capable of or what he would do next. Maybe that's why John loved him. Because every day was an adventure with Sherlock, every day something new always happened. John smiled and closed his eyes, he wasn't able to sleep because he still had the nagging feeling in the back of his mind that Magnussen was somewhere watching them both, very carefully, planning what he should do next.

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**AN: How did you feel seeing what John had always wondered of Sherlock? Don't we all sort of wonder these things about Sherlock? I do, so I thought I'd add in that little bit of John asking himself all those questions, seemed to fit the story perfect. I hope you're excited for the next few chapters.**

**I'd actually like to ask YOU guys what you want to happen next with Magnussen, what do you want him to do to either John or Sherlock? Give me a review and let me know, your idea will most likely be in the next chapter or so! :D**


	20. Chapter 20: Doubts

**AN: This chapter is dedicated to Raaaaaq, for giving me the idea of continuing these next few chapters. I took the idea and made it into my own version, so I wasn't completely copying the review. I fell in love with the idea and this is what it has led me to write. I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it.**

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_**Sherlock's POV**_

Sherlock woke up with a hot cup of tea sitting on the table, he picked it up and sipped it. Perfect. John always knew how to make it, Shelock got up, thinking of John, where was he? His coat wasn't here. Sherlock checked for a note somewhere but there wasn't one, John would have left a note, right? Sherlock started to worry, he checked his phone and had two unread messages. One from John and one from an unknown number.

_Had to get more milk, would have left a note but I couldn't find any paper._

_Love,_

_John_

Sherlock smiled, he had only been gone for a few minutes. He was cautious on checking the second text message, it made him nervous. He tapped the message icon and opened up the text.

_I know how John really feels._

_CM_

How did Magnussen get his number? What did his message mean? He knew how John really felt? Yeah, John cared about Sherlock, right? He acted like he did anyway.. Another message popped up.

_What you see is not always true_

_CM_

No, it was true, Magnussen was wrong! John loved Sherlock! Magnussen was just trying to get into his head and feed him lies. Sherlock kept receiving texts from Magnussen, as if Magnussen knew exactly what he was thinking.

_I'm never wrong_

_CM_

Well he was wrong this time, dammit. John cared about Sherlock and vice versa.

_Quit being deceived by him, Mr. Holmes. You should perfectly understand the chemistry of love._

_CM_

Sherlock started to get angry, why was Magnussen doing this? What if he was telling the truth? Sherlock didn't fear anything, but if he did, it would be losing John. He made Sherlock feel secure in every way possible. Sherlock was so lonely before John, he was an asshole to everyone. Then John showed up and John really made Sherlock open up, he really cared for his ex-military doctor. He never told John, but when John had girlfriend's he would purposely be rude to them to make them go away. He wanted John for himself and now he had him. But he was in doubt now, what if what Magnussen was saying was true? He kept staring at the texts. This can't be true but.. What if? The sound of John coming home took Sherlock away from his thoughts, he put his phone in his pocket. John walked into the flat and put the milk in the fridge, he smiled at Sherlock.

"How are you feeling?" John asked, sitting down, grabbing his laptop.

"Fine, I'm fine." Sherlock sat down across from John, watching his every move. John was calm, typing away at his blog probably. His tongue stuck out when he was focused on something. He kept thinking about what Magnussen had sent him, he didn't want to, but the thoughts were there. He pulled his phone out and stared at the messages longer, debating if he should bring it up with John or not. John must have noticed Sherlock being worried about something, because he cleared his throat.

"You okay? You look worried about something." John had stopped typing. "Want to talk about something?" Sherlock didn't want to lie to him, but he didn't want to bring something like this up with John. It'd be horribly awkward and might ruin what they have for each other.

"No, Mycroft was informing me on a few things, that's all." Sherlock felt horrible lying to John, he never liked to. John raised an eyebrow.

"Like what?"

"Government stuff." John scoffed.

"Mycroft is talking to you about government stuff? Don't be lying to me Sherlock."

"I'm not lying, John." That hurt, it really did. Sherlock just lied even more to John. John just shrugged it off and continued typing. Sherlock got up and made tea for them, placing the cup beside John. They sat in silence, John typing at his laptop and Sherlock thinking if John really cared about him or not. Damn Magnussen, doing this to him.

After about a hour, Sherlock felt himself dozing off every now and then, why was he so tired? John must have noticed, he put his laptop away and got up, putting his hand out to help Sherlock up. Sherlock took his hand in his and stood up slowly, grunting in pain. He took a deep breath and slowly walked back to his bedroom, John helping him the whole way. If John didn't feel the way he did, he wouldn't be helping him. Magnussen was just messing with Sherlock's mind, that's all. John helped Sherlock into bed and tucked him in, kissing his forehead.

"I'll wake you up for dinner alright?" Sherlock nodded, closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

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_**John's POV**_

After tucking Sherlock in, John went back into the living room and sat at the table, looking up online what he could make for dinner. He found a nice recipe for chicken alfredo, he printed out the ingredients, grabbed his coat, and left for the store.

While sitting in the cab, John felt his phone vibrate, he had a text from an unknown number.

_I know how Sherlock really feels_

_CM_

CM? Who's initials were that? Then it hit John, Charles Magnussen just texted him. How did he get his number? What did he mean? Sherlock obviously cared about John, if he didn't, he wouldn't even let John touch him. John ignored the text and got out of the cab to pay and headed into the store. While looking for good chicken breasts, he got another text.

_What you see is not always true, John_

_CM_

He ignored the text once again, Magnussen was just messing with his mind, this was his payback. He was lying to him, that's all. His phone went off, again.

_I'm never wrong_

_CM_

John let out a frustrated sigh, he ignored the text once more and continued on with his shopping. Once he finished, he paid for everything and got in a cab. What did Magnussen want with them anyway? What did Sherlock ever do to him? Was Sherlock's mind a threat to Magnussen? Was Magnussen scared of what Sherlock was capable of? Doubtful, no one gave Sherlock enough credit for what he could do and Magnussen wasn't one to fear anything. John shrugged it off, he didn't want to think about Sherlock not caring about him. That'd be horrible, John was lost before he met Sherlock. He enjoyed every day with Sherlock, every single day. It was always filled with something new and adventurous, John never went a day being bored. He loved how Sherlock got all child-like and happy while on a case, it was like he was a kid in a candy store. Running around, happy and gleeful that he had a challenge in front of him. John always thought it was adorable, but kept to himself. He didn't think Sherlock cared for him back until recently. Now Magnussen was trying to get into his mind and make him doubtful, well it wasn't going to work. Magnussen was going to end up like Moriarty, maybe not dead, but he was going to lose this. John's phone went off again.

_I never lose_

_CM_

John's eyes widened, how did he know what he was thinking? John put his phone away and realized they were at 221B Baker Street, he got out and paid the cabbie, heading into the flat with the newly bought groceries. He placed the bags on the table and kept out what he needed, turning on his laptop to look at the recipe again. He started to make dinner when he heard a noise in the hallway.

"Sherlock? Is that you?" He called out, Sherlock should have been sleeping, maybe he had to go to the bathroom. John heard a groan and it was obvious that it was Sherlock whining, he probably forgot to turn his morphine up. John went to Sherlock and helped him back into bed, turning his morphine up in the process. "I'll wake you up in about a hour okay? Go back to sleep, love." He tucked him in and kissed his forehead, John turned to leave and felt Sherlock's hand grab his arm to stop him. He turned to face Sherlock. "Yes?"

"Stay. Please." Sherlock's eyes were closed, but he could tell he was pleading.

"Sherlock, I have to make dinner."

"I'm not hungry." John could tell Sherlock was lying, but he laid in the bed beside him. Sherlock cuddled up beside John and fell back asleep. John smiled at the warmth of Sherlock's body on his. He had never been so close to the consulting detective before, but it felt wonderful. John closed his eyes and ended up falling asleep. They stayed like that for the rest of the night, holding onto each other while they slept.

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_**Sherlock's POV**_

As soon as Sherlock woke up, all his doubt from Magnussen disappeared when he realized that John was sleeping beside him. Had they been like this all night? It didn't matter, Sherlock enjoyed it, he never wanted to get up. His stomach grumbled, when was the last time he ate something? He didn't want to get up and wake John, but he feared that the sound of his stomach would wake him up. Sherlock tried as quietly as possible to get out of bed, John's hand started twitching and John started making noises, was he having a bad dream? He was very tense, John started to yell, clenching his fists. He was having a nightmare about the war, most likely. Sherlock laid back in bed and held onto his hand, he kissed it lightly. Trying to calm him without speaking, John seemed to loosen up, the nightmare fading. Sherlock heard his phone go off, he looked over at it and picked it up. He had another text message from Magnussen.

_He's very good at faking his feelings for you, I'm impressed_

_CM_

Sherlock was getting frustrated, why did Magnussen have to do this? Make him doubt how he felt for John? Sherlock never replied to any of Magnussen's text messages, although he wanted to flip out on him, he didn't. It would end badly. Sherlock got out of bed without waking John and made eggs for them both. Once the eggs were done, Sherlock heard John shuffle out of the bedroom and walk into the living room and plop down in his chair. Sherlock took a plate of eggs over to John and handed it to him. John looked up at him and smiled, taking the plate of eggs and started to eat. Sherlock sat down across from him and ate his eggs too. They never talked about any text messages from Magnussen, both of them were too scared. It might ruin their relationship. So they sat there, both starting to feel doubtful for each other, but neither said a word about it.

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**AN: What do you think is going to happen in the next few chapters? Excited? I'm very happy I was given this idea in a review, I'm having so much fun including it in the story! Thank you again, and continue reading. :3**

**Reviews/Favorites/Follows are always welcome around here :D**


	21. Chapter 21: Are You Crazy Yet?

**AN: Hope you're enjoying this!**

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(**One week later**)

_**Sherlock's POV**_

Sherlock hadn't recieved any other texts from Magnussen since last week, had he given up? Hopefully, but ever since he recieved the texts, both him and John had been very tense and cautious near each other. Had he been texting John as well? John never brought it up or anything, but it could be a possibility. Sherlock sighed to himself, he didn't understand the emotions going through his mind and body right now. He cared about John but what if John didn't really posses the same feelings? Sherlock wanted to talk to John about it, he really did, but how? How do you bring something like that up? John was right in front of him, he could easily bring the subject up with him, right? It'd be simple, just asking him how he felt. But Sherlock couldn't seem to get the words out of his mouth, he couldn't even look at John. This was eating away at Sherlock, he was starting to go crazy over these thoughts, he couldn't focus on anything _but _this. What was he going to do? The sound of his phone going off scared him, he jumped a bit and grabbed his phone. Magnussen had texted him.

_I told you I never lose_

_CM_

This is exactly the reaction Magnussen had wanted from Sherlock. This is how he wanted Sherlock to act, scared, nervous, and panicked. Magnussen was going to win this. John cleared his throat, taking Sherlock's eyes from his phone to John.

"Who was that from?" This had been the first time in a while that they had actually talked to each other, John sounded so sad.

"Mycroft." Sherlock lied, again with the lying. It made Sherlock feel horrible.

"What does Mycroft want?" John wouldn't stop with the questions and Sherlock would continue to lie to him, making things much worse.

"He had an offer for me, but I declined. It was boring." Sherlock had to lie, again, he didn't know how to tell him that Magnussen had texted him. He didn't know how to tell John he was scared or how he really felt. This was all new to Sherlock and he'd be damned if he lost John right off the bat. John didn't really seem convinced of that, but Sherlock just ignored any further questions. Where was their relationship going? It seemed to be going down hill super fast, what if John decided to move out? No, that wouldn't happen. Sherlock was just being paranoid, that's all. Everything was going to be okay.. Right?

* * *

_**John's POV**_

"Sherlock, I want to talk to you." It took John almost a whole week to get those words to come out of his mouth and he finally said them. Now how was he supposed to continue on with what he wanted to really say? Sherlock looked up from his tea cup.

"Hmm?" He said, taking a sip of his tea.

"How do you... What do you.. What are your, feelings.. Towards me..?" There, he asked, he finally said it. Sherlock looked like someone slapped him in the face, maybe John shouldn't have asked him. Now he was doubting every thing, maybe Magnussen had been right. This was horrible, this could ruin their relationship or friendship or whatever they were to each other. With that one question everything was probably going to go down hill. It took Sherlock a while to answer John's question, which made John scared that maybe Sherlock was trying to find the nicest way to tell John he wasn't romanticly interested.

"I care about you, John." That's all Sherlock said, nothing else, no smart remark. Just that. What was that supposed to mean? Does he feel the same way about John as John does for him? John wanted to overflow Sherlock with all of these questions, but he didn't. He just stayed silent and didn't respond. He went back to typing on his blog, acting like he never said anything to Sherlock in the first place. That was a stupid mistake for John to bring that up, now things were awkward. Great going. They sat in silent for the next few hours.

* * *

John put his laptop away and got up, pulling out his phone. "Do you want chinese?" Sherlock just nodded and John called a chinese resturant to place an order. After he finished that, he went to the kitchen to clean it up a bit so they could eat at the table. After about 20 minutes the doorbell rang and John went downstairs to pay for the food, taking it back up and placing it on the kitchen table. Sherlock had gotten up and made tea, placing the two cups on the table. He sat down and took his food, John sat across from him and did the same. They ate in silence, all of the silence was frustrating. They had barely talked for a whole week since Sherlock returned from the hospital and since Magnussen had started texting John. Was he doing the same with Sherlock? Possibly, he probably wanted to get inside of both of their minds. John never wanted to bring it up with Sherlock, he was scared to. Magnussen must have been reading John's every thought, because his phone went off with a text from him.

_I told you I never lose_

_CM_

As soon as John opened the text and read it, he immediately put his phone away, he was not going to have Magnussen ruin his feelings for Sherlock anymore. John was going to have things how they were before, he was going to stay close to Sherlock and make sure that Sherlock knew how he felt. John finished eating before Sherlock and threw his stuff away, he sat back down at the table.

"How are you feeling? Do you need any morphine?"

"No, I think I'll be okay. Maybe after I finish eating, can you get it ready for me?" John nodded and went to get the needle ready. Once he finished, he went back and sat down at the table again. Sherlock finally finished eating and John offered to throw his stuff away, Sherlock allowed him. John helped Sherlock to the bathroom, he was still having trouble walking when he was in pain. John gave Sherlock a shot of morphine and helped him into bed. He tucked him and kissed his forehead, smiling. It was nice to be doing this again, it made John feel all warm inside. Sherlock grabbed his arm like he did before and asked him to stay in bed with him. So he did, smiling the whole time. Magnussen _was_ wrong. All he tried doing was making them both doubtful for each other. Sherlock cuddled up beside John, holding onto him tightly. John rubbed Sherlock's arm, making him feel safe. John wasn't going to be able to sleep tonight, he was just happy that Sherlock was close to him again.

John was still awake when he looked at the clock, it was 1 am. Sherlock had been stirring in his sleep all night, he was sweating and whimpering every now and then. Probably having a bad dream, John held onto Sherlock, causing him to tense and wake up taking in a deep breath. He was breathing heavy, fear and panic was written all over his face.

"It's okay Sherlock, it's okay, calm down, it'll be okay." Sherlock wasn't saying anything, he was just gripping onto John tightly as if it'd be the last time he'd ever see him. John held Sherlock into his chest and ran his fingers through his dark curls. "It'll be okay Sherlock.. Nothing bad is going to happen.." Sherlock started sobbing into John's chest, what the hell had he been dreaming about that was this bad?

"I thought.. I thought you left John.. I.. Magnussen took you.. From me.." Sherlock sputtered out through sobs of terror.

"I'm not going anywhere, Sherlock." John held him closer. Anger was rising up in him, this is what Magnussen was doing to Sherlock, driving him insane. No wonder he couldn't think straight about anything. Magnussen had been texting Sherlock, this obviously affected him more because Sherlock never let anyone love him. Now that Magnussen was putting these doubts into his mind, Sherlock was going crazy over the fact that he let someone love him who might not love him back. But that wasn't true, John loved Sherlock, he really did. He wouldn't have stayed with him since day one if he didn't care about him. Magnussen was going to pay for this, John will not let Sherlock continue to drive himself crazy. John held Sherlock for the rest of the night, while Sherlock dozed on and off into sleep. Once the sun rose and shone through the blinds, John had helped Sherlock out of bed and went to make breakfast while Sherlock took a bath. John heard Sherlock's phone go off, out of curiosity he picked it up and read the text.

_I'm glad I'm finally in your dreams_

_CM_

John deleted the text message so Sherlock wouldn't read it, he didn't need Magnussen making Sherlock any more paranoid. John heard Sherlock walk out of the bathroom and back to his bedroom, then seconds later walking out to the kitchen in his silky blue robe and sitting at the table. John placed a plate of bacon and eggs in front of Sherlock and sat down across from him.

"You sleep okay?" John asked, taking a bite of his eggs. Sherlock shrugged and started to eat. John knew he wasn't going to be comfortable talking about what he had dreamt about, so he stopped asking questions. Sherlock was eyeing John.

"Did you get any sleep?"

"No, I wasn't tired last night." John lied, he wanted to stay up to hold Sherlock and calm him down through out the night with his nightmares.

They finished breakfast, John putting the plates away and helping Sherlock to his famous chair. Sherlock picked up the paper and skimmed through it. John could tell that Sherlock had wanted a case to solve, something to get his blood running and his mind off of Magnussen, probably. Everytime John thought about Magnussen it infuriated him and how it was affecting Sherlock, but maybe, deep inside, it was slowly affecting him, just not as bad. John's phone went off.

_He's starting to give in to me, John. You're losing._

_CM_

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**AN: I'm seriously enjoying the idea I was given, I've been working with it perfectly! Thank you again!**

**Reviews/Follows/Favorites are great ^-^**


	22. Chapter 22: Emotional Outburst

**AN: I watched "The Hounds Of Baskerville" over and over to really understand how Sherlock would react to this type of thing, and bam, what I have written is what I gathered from it! I hope you enjoy, I put a lot of work into each chapter and I try really hard to make sure they're in character, but also out of character to fit their little love story :)**

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**_Sherlock's POV_**

Everything Sherlock did made him worry, every movement he made towards John, everything he said to John, it made him worry that he'd say something wrong. Magnussen hadn't texted him in a week, but it was really starting to get to Sherlock. Magnussen knew a lot of things and he was right every single time, so he had to be right. Maybe what John was doing was just being overly friendly towards him. Sherlock became more paranoid and anxious (not in a good way) every day, it just got worse and worse. He tried so hard to keep his silence, he didn't want to upset John. He didn't want John to leave. Through out this whole hell of a week, Sherlock's constant foot tapping became much worse. His whole body had basically been shaking, his wound wasn't getting any better due to the stress he was under. He could keep his shaking somewhat under control when John was around so it wouldn't spark alarm, but sometimes he had to leave the room and go somewhere private when it would get bad. Sometimes the uncontrollable shaking would surpass within a few minutes, sometimes it would take a hour or two.

That's what he was doing right now, locked in his bedroom, trying to calm himself down. He was sitting at the edge of the bed, gripping his matress, letting every thought of John and all his doubt just flow through his mind. What if John really figured out that Sherlock loved him? What if Magnussen somehow made John leave him? That made Sherlock's shaking worsen. He gripped the matress tighter, trying to think of a way to explain how he was feeling. He couldn't, that made him feel insecure and open to the whole world, as if someone could read him like an open book. What if John was only here to make sure Sherlock healed and then leave? John was a doctor and it was a habit for him to stick around those who were injured. That wouldn't be the case though, right? He would have left long before. John wouldn't have cried over Sherlock's fake death or anything like that. John wouldn't have tried so hard to survive the three years Sherlock was gone. John wouldn't have had to go to counseling or anything, he would have had his short time to mourn and then move on, right? But that's not what John did so Magnussen was lying, wasn't he? Yes, no, maybe. Sherlock couldn't make up on what the answer was, driving himself mad with these thoughts. He picked up the closest object, a science book, and threw it against the wall, yelling in pain. He strained himself, but anger and confusion was taking over Sherlock's mind. John must have ran to the door, banging on it and yelling for Sherlock.

"Sherlock?! Is everything okay? Why's the door locked? Sherlock let me in!" John's voice sounded frantic, worried, and scared all at once. Sherlock needed his morphine, he fell to the floor, the bullet wound never healed completely and it was bleeding again. He grunted in pain as his chest hit the floor. John continued banging on the door. "Sherlock! Let me in! Are you okay?!" John wouldn't stop banging on the door, he must have kicked it open because next thing Sherlock knew he was laying on his bed while John was pulling up his shirt to check the wound. Sherlock couldn't remember anything else, he passed out.

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**_John's POV_**

"Sherlock?!" John's voice cracked, he was panicking, trying to undo the wrapping around the wound. There was blood all over the floor where Sherlock was laying. He ran to the kitchen to grab a few things and ran back to Sherlock, cleaning the wound. He picked up his phone and called for an ambulance. He kept pressure on the wound until the paramedics arrived. John basically forced them to allow him in the ambulance, holding onto Sherlock's hand tightly and holding back tears. What had he been doing? Why was his door locked? John was horrified, worse things have happened but to know that if he couldn't get the door open in time, Sherlock would have been dead. John was just thankful he was able to get the door open in time.

They got to the hospital and John had been escorted out of the ambulance into the waiting room, he wasn't allowed to go back in the ER. John had waited around for about two hours until a doctor finally came to talk to him.

"How is he?" John asked, worried.

"He'll be fine, he seems under a lot of stress by the looks of it. That wound hadn't healed at all, he must have done something to cause it to bleed out again. Just be glad you called us in time, he would have bled out." The doctor gave John a warm smile. "Would you like to see him? He's wide awake right now, he had been asking for you." John just nodded and followed the doctor to the room Sherlock was in. As soon as he saw Sherlock he smiled and let out a sigh of relief. "I'll just leave you two alone." The doctor walked out and closed the door.

"Oh Sherlock, I'm so glad you're okay. I was so worried.. What the hell happened to you?" John was glad that Sherlock was okay but at the same time worried, what if Sherlock purposely made himself bleed? Was that why the door was locked?

* * *

**_Sherlock's POV_**

"Oh Sherlock, I'm so glad you're okay. I was so worried.. What the hell happened to you?" It was obvious that John was worried about Sherlock. How was he going to tell him what he had been doing? Sherlock was just frustrated and let it out in a bad way. But John would ask about what, and Sherlock definitly was not ready to confess his feelings for John at all. Sherlock just shrugged.

"I tripped and my book went flying across the room, I guess it was enough to cause my wound to start bleeding." Sherlock lied. What was with all the lies? He just wanted to tell John the truth, but he couldn't.

"You're such a liar, Sherlock." John sounded frustrated now, he pulled up a chair and placed it beside Sherlock's bed, sitting down and taking Sherlock's hand. "Tell me the truth."

"I just got frustrated and threw my book, that's all." There, Sherlock told him the truth, it was the truth, whether he told him what he was mad about or not.

"Ahh. You aren't mad anymore now, right?" John questioned, he started rubbing Sherlock's hand lightly. He was glad he did, it was calming every nerve in Sherlock's body, he didn't have anything to worry about. Worry, all the thoughts came flooding back. Sherlock tried to fight the thoughts, to hide them away and make them disappear. He couldn't. They kept coming back more powerful, Sherlock slowly started to shake again. He had to let it out, he had to tell John.

"John.. I..."

"You what, Sherlock?"

"I love you, good God, I love you John. Every single time I wake up and see you there, standing in the kitchen making me something to eat every morning it sends such a strange feeling through my whole entire body. Since day one I thought you would leave like all the others but you decided to stay. You stuck around and dealt with all the weird experiments I did. You stuck around and dealt with me and how I acted. You tried everything to try to make me nicer to people and you always apologized to them when I wouldn't. You can handle my horrible attitude and you can handle me playing the violin at 2, 3, 4 in the morning. You have stuck around through everything and I slowly started to care so much about you and I started to fall in love with you but it was so _strange_ to me. It's all so new and I've been holding in every single feeling for you for months now and Magnussen has been texting me and feeding me doubts or lies or both I don't know but it's driving me crazy because this is how I feel towards you and I hope that Magnussen is wrong about you not loving me back because that would break my heart and I don't exactly know what I would do without you. You are everything I have, I've never had to depend on anyone in my whole entire life and now I'm depending on you John. I told you that I kept an eye on you after I faked my death and I prepared myself for heartbreak thinking that you would just move on with your life but you didn't. You mourned over my fake dead body for three years straight, what I did almost literally killed you. But you tried every day to survive because you didn't want to believe that I was dead. I knew from then on that you cared but everything Magnussen has been telling me, every little thing is messing with my emotions and I've been feeling so doubtful over you loving me back and I don't know what to do and all I want to know is if you love me, John."

Once Sherlock had finished saying everything that needed to be said, he slowly turned his head to face John. John had an expression of awe on his face, was that a good thing? Sherlock felt so relieved to have told John how he really felt. Did John feel the same way for him?

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**AN: SO! How does this make you feel? Sherlock finally going crazy and letting out his emotions towards John? How do you think John is going to react to such an outburst? ;D**

**Reviews/Favorites/Follows are always appreciated! :D**


	23. Chapter 23: Voicemail

**AN: It is 11:10pm in my time right now as I'm posting this.. I started this chapter at about 10pm. I really apologize if you don't like this chapter, I had great intentions for it, but I'm VERY tired right now and this was the only way I could figure out how to portray what I wanted. I apologize, tomorrow's WILL be much better than this. I'd like to ask, as well, is it okay if I don't post every single day? Maybe, every other day? Because sometimes I start to feel worried that you guys want a chapter at least once a day and some days I need more than a day to write a chapter, but I don't want to disappoint you guys. Sorry for rambling, I worry about a lot hahah, so enjoy this short chapter, much more to come tomorrow though!**

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_**John's POV**_

John just sat there, in shock. Taking in everything that Sherlock just said to him. Sherlock _loved _John, he really, actually loved him. All John could do was smile at him, a stupid happy smile. He couldn't say anything, he didn't know how to respond. He was so happy that Magnussen had been wrong all along. He was so happy to finally have Sherlock and to know that Sherlock just poured his feelings out to him.

"Yes, yes Sherlock. Yes, I love you. I do. I, I'm so glad you told me.. I didn't think you felt the same.." John looked up at him, still smiling and stood up to give him a kiss. "Does this mean Magnussen lost?"

"I believe and hope so." Sherlock gave John a reassuring smile. Sherlock had to stay in the hospital for a while, so John was going to be pretty lonely back at the flat again. "I'll be home again soon, don't worry." Sherlock always knew what John was thinking. He smiled at him, now they could have peace at home, right? No one else would try to ruin their relationship.. Right?

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(**Two weeks later**)

_**John's POV**_

Sherlock was finally home, after a two week long stay in the hospital. John hadn't heard from Magnussen since, and Mycroft said that he had been keeping a low profile. It didn't really matter, John had his consulting detective back, again. It felt like they couldn't really stay away from the hospital or stay out of trouble. Why couldn't anyone just let them settle down and be happy together? They finally admitted their love to each other, maybe people would actually leave them alone for once. Mrs. Hudson had made them a huge lunch and dinner the day Sherlock returned home. Mrs. Hudson had tried doing as much as possible for Sherlock, he didn't really like it, but he let her. John could tell Sherlock was in a little bit of pain, but Sherlock tried to ignore it. John would help him every now and then whenever he wanted it.

They were laying in Sherlock's bed together, Sherlock had been sleeping for about one hour while John was wide awake. It's not that he couldn't sleep, he didn't want to sleep. He wanted to stay awake while Sherlock was cuddled up beside him, holding onto him. It made John feel safe inside, as though nothing could defeat them. Sherlock's shaking had disappeared while he was at the hospital as well, that must have been caused by Magnussen. He hadn't woken up from any night terrors lately, so that was good. It was just nice to be back at the flat together, with nothing to worry about anymore. No need to worry about Moriarty or Magnussen, they were both handled with.

What was going to happen now though? They would go back to solving simple crimes.. Is that really what Sherlock wanted to do? John would follow him and make sure he was safe, but now that Moriarty and Magnussen were gone, would he be willing to continue? Moriarty caused most of the crimes so things would start to get a little boring in London.. John's thoughts were interupted by Sherlock's body shaking. John just held onto him, hoping that the shaking would pass by faster than before. He was probably just having a bad dream. Sherlock's body tensed, but slowly stopped shaking. John closed his eyes and relaxed, slowly drifting off into a deep sleep.

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_**Sherlock's POV**_

It was morning, Sherlock was awake way before John. He had gotten out of bed and made tea, although John never woke up, he made a cup for him. Sherlock checked his phone for any messages, he had one. It was an unknown number, a voicemail. He started the voicemail and there was crackling, then he heard a way too familiar voice.

"You're going down, Sherlock." It was Moriarty, but it wasn't him. It sounded like him, but not exactly like him. It was someone else. Impersonating him, maybe? Sherlock wasn't sure, but he sent the voicemail to Mycroft to get it reviewed. He didn't worry about it at all, Sherlock had killed Moriarty and that wasn't Moriarty's voice, just very, very similar. As if the person was trying too hard to sound like him.

Mycroft finally got back to Sherlock after maybe 2 hours, texting him a name of who it was.

_Philip Anderson_

_MH_

Anderson? What the hell did Anderson want with Sherlock?

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**AN: Again, REALLY sorry that it's so short! D;**

**BUT! What do you think Anderson is going to do to Sherlock and John? What do YOU want him to do? Ideas are always good, I have one in mind but I'd love to know what you guys think he should do or what should happen, it always motivates me. :D**

**Reviews/Follows/Favorites are great! :3**


	24. Chapter 24: Love Is Lost

**AN: Started my new classes for this semester and my AP World Lit. seems to be quite the handful! I'll try my hardest to keep up with chapters AND new books, but school might just slow me down a bit this half of the school year! Speaking of new books, I just want to inform you that I believe there will be about.. 2-3 more chapters after chapter 24, meaning there isn't much to this story left. BUT! I will be creating a NEW Johnlock story very shortly and it's going to be either a whole different story line or it may continue this one, just as a second book. I haven't decided yet, so stay tuned for that! But what would you like? A second book to this? Or a completely new one? Let me know :3**

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(**About two or three weeks later**)

_**John's POV**_

John and Sherlock were at Scotland Yard, John was standing there while Sherlock argued with Lestrade about the threatening message he had recieved about 3 weeks ago from Anderson. Lestrade wouldn't believe that it was Anderson, and Sherlock showed him that Mycroft had done research to prove his point. Their arguing had gone on for a good 2 hours until Anderson showed up to give Lestrade some files. That's where it got really interesting.

"YOU!" Sherlock yelled, pointly at Anderson angrily. "Why the hell did you send me a threatening voicemail?!" Anderson just laughed at Sherlock.

"Why would I waste my time doing that? Paranoid, are you, Sherlock?" He smirked at Sherlock and used an obvious sarcastic tone. "Scared someone will hurt you and John over here?"

"Shut up, Anderson. Just shut up. Why did you send me this voicemail?" Sherlock played the voicemail so that Anderson knew what he was talking about. John watched Anderson closely, trying to be like Sherlock, he noticed that Anderson's facial expression changed a bit and his pupils dialated. So Anderson did threaten Sherlock. Now what?

"Exactly, Anderson. You threatened me."

"That wasn't me." Anderson walked out fast enough so no one could grab him, disappearing. Sherlock turned and looked at Lestrade.

"I'm sorry I didn't believe you Sherlock. But that isn't enough evidence to get prove it was him, I'm sorry." Lestrade sat down, placing the files on his desk. Sherlock turned on his heels and stormed out of the room. John got up and followed him. Sherlock was muttering something under his breath, but John wasn't able to understand what he was saying. John took Sherlock's hand in his and Sherlock froze, shocked for a second, and continued walking.

Sherlock must have just wanted to walk his anger out, because they walked for what seemed to be about one or two hours, until Sherlock stopped and sat down on a bench. Looking at John, eyeing him up and down. John wasn't exhausted, but he was a bit worn out from all the walking they did. Sherlock always walked much faster than John, causing him to almost sprint to keep up with the consulting detective. He sometimes wondered how he kept up with him. John sat there and admired Sherlock, who was looking around and watching others pass by and watched as kids were playing in the park. You could tell he was frustrated about something, but he hid it very well. He seemed at peace, as if he wasn't really paying attention to what he was looking at. What did he think about up there in that vast, wonderful mind of his. John started admiring Sherlock's dark curls and sharp cheekbones. He looks like a perfect person, he _is _a perfect person. Whether John's the only person that sees it, Sherlock was perfect in every way possible.

"Dinner?" Sherlock asked, taking John from his thoughts, he didn't hear him at first either. John nodded and Sherlock stood up, helping John up. Holding his hand as they walked to Angelo's together. They sat at the table where they first had dinner, Angelo bringing out a candle for them. John stared at the candle as it flickered, smiling. Remembering the first time they came here, it was a bit awkward because they were looking for a killer, but it was nice. John always enjoyed going out and eating dinner with Sherlock more than he did eating back at the flat, John never really knew why, he just did. They never really talked while they were at dinner and waiting for their food. Sherlock just sat there, calmly, looking around the room.

"You okay?" John asked, taking Sherlock's hand and squeezing it. Sherlock looked back at John, smiling lightly.

"Just paranoid.. Anderson was right. Everything lately has been pretty bad, I just want to keep you safe."

"Keep me safe?" John scoffed. "I need to keep _you_ safe."

"No, John, bad things are coming. Horrible, horrible things. I know a lot has happened.. But.. This is worse." Sherlock didn't keep any kind of contact at all with John while saying this, what did he mean? What's coming? Why was Sherlock acting like this? Lestrade was going to do something about Anderson, so he wasn't a worry. Moriarty was dead and Magnussen had given up. Right? So who else could be after Sherlock? Why do so many people care about... John stopped that thought. So many people cared and knew about Sherlock because of John's blog. It was because of him that they would get their cases, because he would post about them. So it was obvious that an enemy or murderer would plan a way to kill them or hurt them both, just to get to Sherlock. John was getting very tired of all of this.

"Nothing bad is going to happen, Sherlock. Don't worry, please? Let's just be happy for once, alright? That's all I want." Sherlock looked at John and sighed.

"I don't know what I can do to make things go away, John.. It's.. I messed up on something. I don't think we should be... seen together anymore..." Sherlock was holding back tears. John just sat there in shock. Sherlock got up and left, leaving John there to take in everything that was just said to him.

Sherlock just left him, forever.

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**AN: Mwuahahahahah the feels. 3**

**This chapter took me almost all day to type up. I had writer's block almost all through this. I'd like to bring back up what I said in the beginning. Would you like this story to continue as a second book? Because I'm quite tempted to end this book in the next chapter with like, the most amazing and horrible cliffhanger ever and start a second book, or, finish this whole story in one book, (making it maybe 5-10 chapters longer due to all the ideas popping in my head.) This is now up to the readers. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE. IN THE REVIEW SECTION, PLEASE INFORM ME IF YOU WOULD LIKE OPTION ONE OR TWO...**

**ONE- A second book**

**TWO- Complete this story in one book and start a whole new one.**

**PLEASE LET ME KNOW. 3**


	25. Chapter 25: The End, Or Is It?

**AN: This is the last chapter to this book! I will continue this as ANOTHER book! Please follow me (as in the whole "follow author" thingy) for when the next book is posted. I may be on Sunday or Monday most likely (2/2/2014 or 2/3/2014) I'm uncertain. I would like the first chapter in the second book to be very long and explain a lot more, in detail.**

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**_Sherlock's POV_**

Sherlock had just walked out on John, he didn't want to head back to the flat so he just started walking. He didn't really know where to go, he just went somewhere far away from John. Sherlock knew what he did was wrong, but it was to protect John.

Truth is, Sherlock never killed Moriarty. Moriarty never died, Sherlock had purposly shot Moriarty to make it seem like he had, but he didn't shoot him anywhere to kill him. He couldn't have killed Moriarty, whether that's what he wanted to do so badly, he didn't. If he did, both him and John would be dead. Sherlock knew that Moriarty had snipers in the building, aiming at them, to shoot if Moriarty was killed. At all times they were being pointed at, all Moriarty had to do was give the word. But if Sherlock left John, Moriarty said he would leave John alone and only deal with Sherlock. Sherlock would risk his life to save John, he'd drop everything. He loved John, but this was the only way he knew how to keep him safe. Leaving him. It hurt so much, he just wanted to run back and hold John and tell him it was all going to be okay. That no one was going to kill him, but that wasn't true. Because Moriarty was going to kill Sherlock. Just like before, but this time, Sherlock feared that he was going to succeed. This was going to be the end of Sherlock Holmes.

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**_John's POV_**

John should have gone after Sherlock, but he wasn't able to get his body to move. He was stuck in place, unable to get up and chase after the love of his life. He just sat there, dumbfounded, that Sherlock just left him. After about 20 minutes, John got up and just walked back to the flat. He didn't know what to do or where to go, he just walked home. Slowly, trying to think things through.

Sherlock wouldn't have went back to the flat, obviously. How was John going to tell Mrs. Hudson that Sherlock just left? Why? Why did Sherlock leave? There were no more threats on them! No one wanted to kill them anymore! What was Sherlock not telling John? Why did he keep things from him all the time? John was starting to get really pissed off and walked back faster to the flat, once he arrived he went inside and slammed the door. He went to the living room and sat down in his chair. He looked over at Sherlock's chair and broke down. He couldn't hold it in, the reality of Sherlock being gone took over John. He ended up crying for the next 3 hours, thinking of everything he did with Sherlock. It was just like when Sherlock had faked his suicide, all those memories were coming back and this was much worse for John, now knowing that this was real. He didn't know if he could handle this, knowing that Sherlock was alive but wasn't anywhere near him. He wanted his consulting detective back, he wanted to hold him, kiss him, sleep with him, just be with him. But he couldn't now. Because for some odd reason, Sherlock just had to get up and leave him. He said he couldn't be seen with him, was it something John did? Did he do something wrong? Say something wrong?

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(**Two weeks later**)

John hadn't heard a single thing from Sherlock, he was crying constantly. He hadn't slept in days, he missed Sherlock so much. He hasn't eaten much, Mrs. Hudson has had to force him to eat. He was much worse than he was when Sherlock had commited suicide, John couldn't handle this torture. It was horrible, he just wanted his Sherlock back so badly.

John got up and grabbed his gun, crying and shaking, he held it to his head. His finger on the trigger, he was ready for this.

John was ready to die.

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**AN: The next book will be posted, like I said, on either the 2nd or 3rd of February. PLEASE follow my account to get an alert on when it is posted! I hope you enjoyed this book as much as I did, and the second one will be MUST better!**

**Thank you for all the reviews on this book, I honestly loved getting reviews, they motivated me to post new chapters every day. They also gave me ideas on what to post next and such. So thank you, so so so much. I did not expect it to be end up like this, but please, follow my account!**

**The second book has just been posted! It is called "Johnlock: The Troubles (Book 2)" PLEASE, go follow it! It continues this story :)**


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